


Harry Potter and the Prince's Daughter

by LightningKoneko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 86,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningKoneko/pseuds/LightningKoneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during The Goblet of Fire. When Harry is rescued from the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup by a beautiful and mysterious girl, he wants desperately to know who she is. Unfortunately, she just happens to be Snape's adopted daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Broomsticks zipped through the air amidst the crowd of cheering spectators, in a blur of reds and greens. The winds howled and tension spiked, as the cheering increased to a deafening rumble. Horns blared, shouts prevailed, curses and praises were strewn about and the flags of Ireland and Bulgaria hung high with pride.

Today marked the finals for the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, with the Bulgarians and Irish fighting with equally heated passion and determination to claim the title of grand victor. The Irish supporters roared in rapture when their beloved team scored another goal, putting the Irish 10 points ahead of the Bulgarians.

At the top of the stands stood Harry James Potter, with his two best friends Hermoine Granger and Ron Weasley, as well as Fred, George, Ginny and Arthur Weasley. This was Harry’s first time attending the Quidditch World Cup and he was enjoying and treasuring every moment of it, his eyes eagerly darting about to absorb as much action as he could gather, almost like a child.

Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, Harry had always been fascinated with flying and his exceptional performance with a broomstick and lightning fast reflexes earned him the position of Seeker for the Gryffindor team.

As the boy-who-lived recalled the very first time he flew, a smile graced his lips a he envisioned the wind in his hair, the feeling of absolute freedom and the confidence to accomplish anything. Unlike the Weasleys, Harry did not come to support any team in particular, but rather to appreciate the beauty, skill and grace of this thrilling and magical sport. 

Quidditch was his passion; the skies were his salvation. Even Sirius, his Godfather, who gifted him a “Firebolt” on his birthday, confirmed his suspicions.

He was born to fly.

“Came to appreciate the art of flying?”

Harry gave a start and turned to face the owner of the voice, his eyes wide in surprise and body going stiff. The speaker had been a girl who looked around Harry’s age, with a slim and slender build, slight sun-kissed skin, and short, unruly black hair somewhat similar to that of Harry’s. She was a head shorter than Harry and looked quite androgynous but more on the feminine side. She appeared to be of Asian descent, but that was not what caught Harry’s attention. Instead, he found himself drawn to her wide deep crimson eyes that swirled and twinkled with mirth and temptation.

Harry had never seen eyes that beautiful and spell-binding before, but something unsettling in his gut told him that he had seen these eyes before. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and swallowed hard. Despite her overall tomboy disposition, Harry couldn’t help but find her oddly charming.

The girl gave a low chuckle and it took Harry approximately 5.2 seconds to realize he had been gaping like a fish out of water.

“Er…” was the most intelligent response he could utter.

The girl shook her head in amusement and adverted her gaze back to the game.

“I could tell from that wistful look in your eyes that you hold more love for this sport than the quantifiable earnings and fame promised by fans and players alike. Your expression was soft. You truly enjoy the freedom of flight, the thrill of a Seeker… not to mention your first taste of Golden Snitch-“

“Wait, you were watching me? Why? And how do you know I’m a Seeker?” Harry demanded, a little unnerved by the female’s accurate observation skills.

Again, there was that amused chuckle.

“Because the look in your eyes and the smile on your face reminded me of myself when Father got me my first broom. As for the Seeker part, well,” she gave him a wry grin.

“Your reputation precedes you, Harry Potter.”

Harry couldn’t hold back the urge to roll his eyes. Figures. His fame was starting to grate his nerves. Even complete and utter strangers knew who he was, and he didn’t even have to reveal his scar sometimes. However, Harry couldn’t find himself to be mad at this mysterious girl, especially since she seemed to understand this much about him by just reading his face. He didn’t know whether to feel unnerved by it or not, but whatever the case, they did seem to have something in common.

“Where’s your father anyway? Unless… you came for the World Cup all on your own?”

The game was long forgotten. Harry had no idea why, but this girl seemed interesting enough to hold his attention; and they weren’t even discussing serious issues!

“Nah. He’s in his tent. Not quite a fan of Quidditch or crowds for that matter. The only reason why we’re even here is because he knows how much Quidditch means to me.”

“Oh! Do you play? What school are you from?” Harry questioned excitedly. Hermoine was the only closest girl friend he had (apart from Ginny) who was not as into sports as she was to books, so finding someone else (and a girl for that matter) who shared a similar interest was gold for Harry.

The girl gave him a genuine smile which Harry couldn’t help but return. In the background he could hear Ron shouting at a spectacular goal blocked by the Bulgarians, but Harry didn't so much as turn his head. Not even when Ron and Hermoine turned their heads to stare questionably at their friend and his new companion.

“Well, I always wanted to, but Father wouldn’t let me. Said it’s a breeding ground for sprains and broken bones. He’s just protective -“

“Harry, mate, who’s that?” Ron ventured suspiciously, looking at the raven –haired female with narrowed eyes. Next to him, Hermoine had her eyebrow raised and arms crossed, as if berating a child for his misconduct.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry, guys, forgot the introductions. Ron, Hermoine, this is-”

The sudden blaring of a horn startled the trio as they immediately turned to focus their attention back to the Quidditch Pitch. The match was over. Vicktor Krum had caught the snitch but still lost to the Irish by 10 points. Ron looked almost heart-broken from the results.

When they turned back to face the mysterious girl, she was gone. In her place was an empty spot where she stood but a minute ago. And as the crowd started to filter out of the stands, Harry suddenly realized that he hadn’t known her name.

 

~

 

The sky was blotched in an ugly canvas of sickly oranges and yellows as fire raged around the campsite. The angry hues splashed across the horizon like a gaping wound that never stopped bleeding its agonizing hatred. Smoke filled the air and the lungs of the screaming, frightful wizards and witches as they ran for their lives, away from the storming cluster of black –hooded cloaked figures.

Trapped and shoved about violently in the sea of panic and chaos, Harry soon found himself separated from his friends. He called out to them desperately, but the louder he shouted, the further he found himself being dragged away by the hoard of wizards.

Harry’s mind was reeling. He recalled Malfoy’s words earlier about a riot being started by Deatheaters with their prime-targets being Muggle-borns and half-bloods. Never in his life had he felt so fearful for his friend. He needed to get to Hermoine, no matter what.

Struggling out from the crowd, Harry rolled and ducked to the side of a nearby tent and crouched there in waiting. He had no idea where Ron, Hermoine and the rest of the Weasleys were, but he hoped and prayed that they were out of harms way.

Harry made a move to stand, but quickly crouched down again to duck out of sight from a group of approaching Death Eaters. He chanced a quick glance at his surroundings and cursed beneath his breath.

The Death Eaters were patrolling nearly everywhere; scouting for their victims and torturing those they could afford to. Harry began to panic. If they found him, no doubt he would taken down by the Avada Kedavra upon clean sight. His appearance was too iconic and he was willing to bet his entire Gringotts safe that all of Voldemort’s loyal followers would recognize him from a mile away. Harry cursed again. He had left his invisibility cloak back in the tent.

Brilliant.

“Rather fine evening to be caught in the middle of a Death Eaters’ riot, isn’t it? But then again, you’re Harry Potter. You don’t go looking for trouble; they tend to flock to you like pixies to merry mischief-making.”

Harry turned his head so sharply that it hurt. Startled couldn’t even describe his state of mind right now. His heart was beating a concert beneath his rib-cage and it took a lot out of him to swallow back the exclamation of shock that threatened to spill from his mouth. Brilliant emerald eyes stared into bright, twinkling ruby.

“You! What are you doing here!?”

It was the girl from earlier, only this time; she was out of her robes and in a pair of black skinny jeans and a tight-fitting turtleneck top. Her hair was even messier than before if that was possible, and the two of them looked quite the pair with the matching black bird nests on their heads.

“Looking for my Father!” she hissed back. “But seeing as I’ve found you instead, I’ve got to get you to safety. This way!” She made a grab for Harry’s wrist but said boy yanked it back roughly.

“Wait a minute! How can I be so sure you’re-“

“Oh we are NOT having this argument.” The girl grouched as she turned to glare daggers at him. “Right now, there’s only me or the Death Eaters, and seeing as you’re not familiar with this place, I think a smart boy like you would know which is the better option!”

With that, the two snuck around the tent and crept silently towards the outskirts of the vicinity, occasionally ducking behind abandoned tents to avoid being possibly spotted. Just as they were nearing the area’s exit, the two stiffened sharply when they heard a nearby Death Eater.

“I think there’s someone here!”

There was another voice that followed shortly after.

“Find them! And if they’re Mudbloods or filthy half-breeds, you know what to do!”

“In here!” The girl whispered as they scrambled into a nearby run-down tent. The tent was fairly large and had quite a number of belongings left behind from the previous owner.

The raven-haired female moved to hide behind a pile of crates while Harry crawled inside a wooden cupboard, leaving the door open just a crack to see what was going on outside. At first, there was silence, a silence so stifling that neither of them dared to breathe, however it was soon broken by approaching footsteps and the sound of crushing grass. Not a single sound was uttered and Harry waited with bated breath, hoping and praying this Death Eater wouldn’t find them out.

The sound of footsteps stopped and Harry peeked through the cupboard’s crack only to have his eyes narrowed in confusion. In the middle of the room stood not a Death Eater, but a tall, medium-built young gentleman with short straw-colored hair and donned in black. He did not wear the robes or masks that Death Eaters did, however his sneaky posture made Harry absolutely sure he wasn’t to be trusted either.

The man was busy scanning the room for any traces of human life, when he suddenly stopped and turned towards the direction Harry was hiding. Harry’s breath hitched as he watched the man move in brisk confident strides towards his hiding place. He backed up against the back of the cupboard in fear.

This was it. He would be found out and killed on the spot. He knew it.

Just as Harry began counting down to his impending doom, the sound of a fallen object jolted him out of his wave of panic. The sudden noise penetrated the still silence of the night and caused the stranger to halt in his movements and turn towards the source of the noise. A lone book lay innocently at the man’s feet; a book that had never been there before.

Green eyes widened as realization dawned upon its owner. The book had been thrown to distract the man from finding him and it came from the direction that the mysterious girl was hiding.  Harry’s mind was in turmoil. He had nearly been discovered but this girl saved him at the probable cost of her own life.

Why?

It was too late to ponder over such thoughts. The stranger had taken out his wand and had it aimed at the bookshelf as he slowly approached it. His face broke out into a twisted grin as he cackled crazily.

“I smell a Mudblood… Why not come on out my pretty? I promise I won’t kill you… so soon.”

His hand reached out and grabbed at the bookshelf’s frame, ready to drag it aside.

“HARRY!!!!”

“HARRY???”

“HARRY WHERE ARE YOU?”

“PLEASE ANSWER US, HARRY!”

Harry sat upright when he heard those familiar voices calling out to him. They were unmistakably Ron’s and Hermione’s. Those two truly had impeccable timing.

The strange man drew back sharply and cursed under his breath. He gave the bookshelf one last sneer, before raising his wand above his head at pointed it into the sky.

“Morsmordre!”

Out from his wand shot out an eerie green light. The glow covered the night sky before the clouds and dark energy manifested into a giant skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

As soon as the mark was cast, the man made a run for it.

Without wasting any time, Harry kicked open the doors of the cupboard and leapt out, making a mad dash across the area to the bookshelf the girl had been hiding behind. It was around this same time that Ron and Hermione had found him, holding onto the hands of the raven-haired female, gratitude shining in his eyes.

Hermoine immediately flung her arms around Harry and pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing embrace. A look of pure worry and relief flooded her features as she continued to hold onto one of her best friends.

“Oh, Harry! We were so worried!”

“We thought we lost you, mate!” added Ron who has an equally frightened and worried look spread across his face and entire body language. Harry let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Ron! Hermione! I’m alright, really!” He nodded in the mysterious girls’ direction.

“But you’ve got to thank her though! Otherwise who knows what would have happened to me!”

“And who is she again?” Ron interrupted, tense and defensive and approached her in a threatening manner. Harry held him back.

“No, Ron! She saved me from a Death Eater!”

As soon as those words left Harry’s mouth, Ron and Hermione turned to fix the girl with wide, bewildered stares, their eyes dancing with confusion and inability to comprehend the course of the latest events. It was Hermione that broke the awkward silence.

 

“Who are you? Why did you help Harry?”

Harry and Ron could tell that Hermione had loads of burning questions at ready to fire at the strange girl, but she held back, not wanting to startle her or frighten her off. That wasn’t exactly how you showed people your gratitude by chasing them away from relentless interrogation.

The girl bit her bottom lip in apprehension and gazed at the golden trip through nervous red pools. Her hands were clasped together in front of her.

“Because I had to. “

“But you-”

“AVADA KEDAVERA!!”

The four teenagers barely even had time to register what was happening and only managed to duck just in time before four blasts of green hexes hit them. The four huddled close together, heart thumping and reeling from the initial shock of barely escaping death.

“STOP! THAT’S MY SON!” A voice cried in anger.

Arthur Weasley pushed through the wizards from the Ministry that accompanied him, and ran up to the four children, embracing Ron desperately. The four wizards who casted the curse drew their wands back hesitantly, as if distrusting the fact that their almost-victims were mere children.

Arthur drew back to check the Golden trio over.

“Are you kids alright? The Death Eaters and those wizards didn’t hurt you?” He continued to fuss over them. Then, his eyes travelled to land on their new female companion who had remained silent all this while.

“And you, child?”

“I-I-I’m… alright…”

She looked quite shaken and had turned slightly pale. Her eyes kept darting about as if searching for someone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione noticed this too.

“Are you…you’re worried about your dad, aren’t you?” ventured Harry tentatively, lowering his voice to a whisper so as not to attract the attention of the other Ministry wizards.

He for one knew that if they overheard this, they would immediately suspect the girl and her father to be involved and partially responsible for the attacks. Arthur was about to ask if he could lend a hand in her search, when a nervous shout interrupted the group’s little moment.

Barthemus Crouch stormed through the small crowd of wizards to aim his wand directly at Harry; his eyes taking on a fearful, crazed look.

“The Dark Mark! You did it! You cast it! You and your little friends-”

“Mr. Crouch, they’re just children! They couldn’t have done this!” Arthur cut in hurriedly, taking a step in front of the four in defense.

Barthemus Crouch pointed his wand at each of them, his eyes darting around frantically as if thinking if he looked at them long enough, the polyjuice potion would wear off and would reveal to him the true Death Eaters they really were.

Unfortunately for him, that didn’t happen and he spun around swiftly, his black cape billowing behind him dramatically as he exited the scene.

“This way.” The other wizards moved to follow him.

The group watched them go, irritation gracing their features at the Minister’s rudeness. Arthur let out a heavy sigh and turned to face the children but stopped abruptly when he noticed not all were accounted for.

“Say now, where’s your new friend?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione gave a start, the three looking about for any signs of the mysterious girl but to no avail. The trio cursed, again missing the chance to uncover her identity. She had disappeared again. However, on the ground where she once stood, lay a small white envelope with the seal of Hogwarts.

Harry bent down to pick it up and his eyes widened in sheer disbelief at what he saw. Ron and Hermione leaned forward to see what got their friend in such a scare and gasped loudly in unison.

There, written on the envelope’s surface, in neat cursive writing, were the words:

 

**To:**

**Joan Severus Snape**

* * *

**More to come!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

**Dear Ms Snape,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**We understand that you have been home-schooled 3 years prior and are familiar with the current curriculum of learning. However, you are to now follow the standard educational proceedings of Hogwarts.**

**As reinstated by Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, you should have no problem picking up on 4 th year standards and following your classes. Therefore, a month’s worth of separate and express learning will not be required.**

**Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.**

**I also understand from Professor Snape that your particular pet is both your mode of transport and delivery, so I am willing to make an exception this once.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your dragon by no later than July 31.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall**

**Deputy Headmistress**

 

Harry looked up from the letter to stare at the sullen expressions of Ron and Hermione. They had read the letter several times at the Weasleys’ and now on the train ride to Hogwarts.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the addressed student in the letter had a familial relationship with Professor Snape, especially with Professor McGonagall’s constant reference to him and the student’s name. Whoever this student was, had to be extremely close with Snape if he knew so much about her from her educational needs to her choice of pet.

This student had a Dragon no less!

From what Hermione had told him, dragons were powerful and nearly untamable magical creatures, so for someone to own one, the person would have to be either particularly skilled in the art of rearing it, or came from a very rich family.

Ron fidgeted in his seat, restless. Finally, after composing his thoughts, he asked the burning question that was on everyone’s minds.

“You don’t think that that girl from last night is this “Joan” person, do you? And that her father she had been looking for, is Professor Snape?” His voice hitched.

Hermione sighed in exasperation and slammed her book shut.

“That’s preposterous, Ron! We’ve already been through this! Professor Snape has no heir or any other relative or sibling of the age of 14!” She recited from the knowledge she had gathered last night.

“There is a perfectly logical explanation to this! One, the girl last night is not the person the letter is referring to. For all you know, someone else could have dropped it. In case you’ve forgotten, it was chaos at the World Cup. Two,”

She whacked both boys upside their heads in frustration, ignoring Ron’s indignant exclamation of “Blimey, Hermione!”

“Anyone can have the name “Severus” and Professor McGonagall could have made an error by spelling her family name wrong! You’re both getting worked up over this for nothing!”

Harry winced, rubbing his head.

“But Hermione, what _if_ this letter belonged to that girl? It would certainly explain a lot! Especially since she knows things she shouldn’t have been able to…”

“Like what? This is certainly something you failed to mention last night.” Said Hermione.

“Sorry, had a lot on my mind.” He rubbed at his scar and Hermione nodded in understanding.

“She knew I play for Gryffindor as Seeker, and she knew I caught the Golden Snitch in my very first game with my mouth.” He blushed in embarrassment as he recalled that event.

“You would have to be in Hogwarts watching that game to know! On top of that…” He trailed off and Ron and Hermione had to lean in closer to hear his next words.

“I’m sure you all noticed the color of her eyes…”

At that, both Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. They could never forget the unnatural shade of color her eyes had been and the only person they knew who had eyes like that, was-

“Voldemort.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the carriage as the three pondered over the recent turn of events: Death Eaters rioting in the open, the Dark Mark appearing in the sky, Harry’s latest vision, and now this girl with the mysterious red eyes.

Had Voldemort returned? And did that strange girl have anything to do with it?

However, before he could muse over his thoughts some more, the muffled voice of the Trolley lady sounded from beyond their carriage door.  Shelving the previous discussion at the back of his mind, Harry decided to get something to eat, with Ron in tow.

The Trolley lady greeted them in her usual cheery manner, a warm smile gracing her features. Somehow it made both boys feel a little better.

“Hello, loves. Anything from the trolley?”

Ron scrunched up his face in thought, before finally deciding on his purchase.

“Erm… a packet of Droobles… Licorice Candy Cane… and some chocolate frogs.”

The lady nodded and was about to hand the sweets over to him when Ron changed his mind.

“On second thought, just the Droobles.”

A haughty snicker caused both Ron and Harry to groan inwardly in displeasure.

Not now…

“What’s wrong, Weasley? Too poor to afford more than a small handful of candy? You _poor, poor_ thing.” Taunted the newcomer as he tucked back a stray strand of blonde hair.

Ron glared at the blonde, fighting against every fiber of his soul not to tackle the infuriating git and beat him senseless.

“Piss off, Malfoy!”

In the middle of the aisle stood Draco Malfoy, his arms crossed, head held up high, and an arrogant smirk plastered on his lips. At his sides stood Blaise Zabini, expression bored and condescending, and Pansy Parkinson, a girl whose face was made ugly by her sneering expression.

“As usual, the Weasel lacks an intelligent comeback.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Clearly, Malfoy came to get his daily dose of “let’s insult Harry Potter and his friends”. He ignored the pompous laughter and put his arm around Ron’s shoulder, steering the both of them away and back towards their carriage. The best way to handle the situation was to ignore him.

“Hey, Draco darling! What’s this? It looks like Potty dropped something!” chirped Pansy.

Harry froze before hurriedly fumbling at his robes.

Crap! The letter!

He whirled around just in time to see Draco unfold the parchment, his grey eyes scanning through the contents. The blonde’s eyes moved from neutral, to surprise, to anger, then to confusion.

“What’s the meaning of this, Potter? How did you get this? And who in Merlin’s name is ‘Ms. Snape’?”

“The hell I know!” snapped Harry, as he snatched the parchment back from Draco. “And that’s none of your bloody business!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Draco moved forward to stare the boy-who-lived down in a threatening manner. “You’re not hiding this one from me, Potter. You know something, and I intend to find out or else…”

Harry gave him a hard shove.

“Or else what? You tell ‘Daddy-dearest’ to get people to beat the information out of me? Oh wait, he’s in Azkaban now, isn’t he?”

In a fit of rage, Draco made a lunge forward, determined to literally bash that triumphant smirk off the Gryffindor’s face, but was held back by Blaise.

“Draco! Let it go! It’s just Potter; he’s not worth it, so just drop it and let’s go.” Blaise admonished and it was only until Draco’s struggling ceased, did he let go.

“You will regret that, Potter.” He sneered, contemptuous venom dripping from his voice.

Neatening his robes and turning his chin up, Draco stormed off, his two friends keeping pace as they disappeared behind a door leading to the next carriage.

Harry shook his head and sighed as he looked at the letter in his hand, more specifically, the name on it.

“You have no idea how much trouble you’re getting me into right now…”

 

~

 

As soon as the first years were sorted and the foreign exchange students settled down, Dumbledore cleared his throat and began.

“Well now that we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well.”

His eyes twinkled as he glanced around at the foreign students who had already made themselves comfortable.

“You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The TriWizard Tournament. The Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school a single student is selected to compete. Now let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say, these contest are not for the faint-hearted. But more of that later. “

Just then, the Great Ceiling gave a loud crack and threatened to give way. Gasps and startled screams pervaded the air but were soon cut short when a spell was cast to fix the damage.

All eyes in the Great Hall turned to fix on a strange conspicuous man with thinning dark grey grizzled hair and had a face that looked to have been carved out of wood by an untalented artist. The man had a rather intimidating aura about himself - a certain authority and power, but at the same time, could not be trusted. He had a peculiar eye that darted in all directions (independently) in place where his left eye ought to be, and walked with an obvious limp in his step.

The man approached Dumbledore and the two shook hands, mumbling something to each other underneath their breaths. After announcing to the school that this man was Alastor Moody and was to be their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, said man moved to stand to the side to watch the proceedings.

However, before Dumbledore could continue, the Great Ceiling gave an even louder crack than before and a sudden rumbling occurred, sending the students into another fit of distress. The illusion started to ripple and fade in and out, before it disappeared entirely to be replaced by the form of a large, falling dragon.

The dragon roared in distress as it plummeted down to the ground, landing in an awkward heap in the center of the Great Hall and its many occupants. It began to struggle about in a comical fashion as it tried to turn itself around to a proper position, but failed miserably.

The dragon was extremely large and was easily 6 times the height and 7 times the length of an average person. It had fiery reddish-black scales that glistened under the light from the candles, striking gold eyes, and great majestic wings. Its wings were tucked and it had reigns at its mouth. It was covered with spikes from head to tail.

Thankfully, all the students had evacuated their tables to rush to the other end of the Hall; otherwise they would have been crushed under the massive creature’s weight and the impact.

The Professors immediately whipped out their wands to aim at the flailing creature, all except Snape who, Harry noticed, did not seemed to be fazed in the slightest bit, and did not have his wand out. Harry frowned, the gears in his head turning. Could this be the dragon mentioned in the letter? If that was so, then that would mean…

“Cerberus, you idiot! Get off! Get off!”

Harry gasped. He knew that voice!

As if on cue, the dragon gave a surprised snort and quite literally jumped back to reveal a coughing raven-haired girl with short unruly hair and crimson eyes, beneath its tail. The girl rolled over and stood up, neatening and dusting her Hogwarts robes, before facing the Professors at the front as she began apologizing profusely.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!!” She flailed miserably.

“I lost my admittance letter! And I missed the train! And I got lost! And this crazy old man with a cat didn’t want to let me in! And I couldn’t contact Professor Snape! And it was raining! And lightning scares Cerberus! And the idiot-”

The Great Hall suddenly exploded with commotion as the students began speaking in frantic, hurried speeches and gestures as they exchanged comments and questions about the newcomer and her inappropriate grand entrance.

Ron had grabbed Harry by the arm and gave him a pointed stare, nodding his head in the direction of the girl and her dragon. Harry new what Ron was indicating, after all, the both of them had similar speculations regarding the girl and her relation to Snape; and now this happened! It was all coming together: The girl, the dragon, Professor Snape, the girl’s commencement of her 4th year (their year).

Hermoine grabbed Harry’s other arm and gave him a pensive stare. She bit her lip and nodded in acknowledgement. Harry and Ron had been right.

Harry felt someone’s gaze on him and chanced a glance to his left to see Draco giving him a questioning frown. Harry groaned and allowed his head to droop. Great, now Malfoy knew and wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Why did these things always happen to him?

“SILENCE!!!!” Dumbledore boomed.

The students immediately fell silent and the Professors, after realizing the dragon was no threat, lowered their wands. All eyes were now fixed at the Hall’s center as Dumbledore approached the apprehensive girl.

“That’s quite alright, my dear. Now, what is your name?” He coaxed gently.

“Joan, sir. Joan Snape.” She answered.

Harry’s jaw clenched. He knew it. He felt both Ron and Hermoine’s hands twitch around his arms and knew that they thought the same thing.

“Ah, right then. Let’s get you sorted.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled in knowing as he wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her to the front of the Great Hall to the Sorting Hat.

“Hagrid, would you take care of the dragon, please?”

Hagrid nodded, took the dragon by the reigns and slowly led the giant creature out of the Great Hall, which surprisingly, showed no resistance. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore repaired all the damage caused by the dragon, restoring the broken tables, benches, and cutleries. As soon as the students moved to take their seats at their respective House tables, Dumbledore motioned for the girl to take a seat on the sorting chair.

“Erm, Dumbledore, sir? I’m sorry for all the trouble caused and… will Cerberus be alright?” the girl now known as Joan asked tentatively. Dumbledore smiled.

“No worries, my child. Hagrid is our school’s gamekeeper and an expert in Magical Creatures. Cerberus will be well taken care of.”

Joan smiled in relief, but when her gaze met that of a disapproving Professor Snape’s, she quickly adverted her eyes to stare at her lap. Great, she knew she blew it big time. Talk about drawing massive unnecessary attention. Now the whole school knew.

Dumbledore placed the Sorting Hat on her head. The students and Professors watched on in interest.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The Sorting Hat spoke.

“Good evening.” Joan greeted politely.

 

_Why, it’s a Snape! Now this won’t take long!_

_Worry not for I’ll have it done by the end of my song!_

_Your soul is dark but your heart is pure,_

_Your unfathomable contradiction holds a certain allure._

_There’s more to you than meets the eye,_

_More than you will ever know,_

_Just like the mind of a boy three years ago._

_I see that you have a cunning mind,_

_But a heart brave and true, a rather rare find._

_Now where do I put you?_

_I wonder more and more._

_Will it be Slytherin, or perhaps Gryffindor?_

There was a long and stifling silence as the Hat evaluated its answer. The silence stretched on for a good 5 minutes before frustration started to settle in Joan. She looked up at the hat upon her head.

“You’re enjoying the attention, aren’t you?” She deadpanned.

It snorted.

“What nonsense! You are simply hard to place…”

“Oh please, you’re just reluctant to be shelved away for another year.”

“With that attitude, I know where you’re going!”

There was a pause and the Sorting Hat seemed to be readying itself and Joan clenched her eyes shut in anticipation.

“SLYTHERIN!”

A large smile found its way on Joan’s lips as she turned around quickly to give Professor Snape a thumbs-up. She would forever remember the proud look he had on his face as he nodded at her curtly. …alright, it was just the tiniest upward twitch of his lips, but Joan knew him long enough to decipher it as a look of pride.

The Slytherins cheered loudly for having yet another addition to their house. However, only two people failed to join in the chorus of cheers, and they were Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

The Slytherin prince smirked as he continued to stare at their latest addition as she strolled down the aisle, making her way to the Slytherin table. Well, this ought to be interesting, not to mention thoroughly promising to have a Snape in their house. The whole prospect was advantageous enough for him to disregard her prior improper and crude entrance.

Doing his best to ignore Pansy who was giggling about how constipated Potter looked from the Sorting Hat’s decision, he leaned to whisper in Blaise’s ear.

“Hey, Blaise, what do you think? Think we stand a chance beating those rotten Gryffindors this year?” Blaise snorted, his expression remaining bored as always.

“I think that you miserable lot are overreacting for nothing. That girl clearly lacks proper carriage and for her to possess Gryffindor characteristics is nothing short of appalling.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“In other words, she’s not your type. Merlin knows why you’re so damn hard to please!”

“And you?”

Draco snickered as his eyes followed the girl’s approaching form.

“Let’s just say, I could use a change of scenery.” He indicated at Pansy causing his friend to chuckle in amusement.

“Besides, she seems to be important to Potter, and we all know how much I love condemning his very existence.”

Joan paused in front of the duo, offered them a friendly smile, before taking a seat opposite them, marking the end of their conversation.

“Your attention please. Now that that’s through, I'd like to say a few words.”

All heads turned to see what their Headmaster had to say.

“Eternal Glory. That is what awaits the Student who wins the TriWizard Tournament. But to do this the Student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. To explain all this we have the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemus Crouch... “

A nervous man in his late 30s stepped forth. He donned black billowing wizard robes, a cape, and a black bowler hat. As he spoke his fingers twitched about every now and then, as if crowds had a negative effect on him.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron and Hermoine had shared knowing looks, all three remembering the events from the previous night. They spared a glance at Joan, whose expression had turned sour just by staring at the man.

“Due to the considerations by the Ministry, no witch or wizard below the age of 17, is allowed to participate in the tournament…” Mr. Crouch was overpowered by the loud chorus of jeers and expletives from the students in the Great Hall. He continued anyway.

“This is the final decision by the Ministry and will be upheld.”

**_“THAT’S RUBBISH! THAT’S RUBBISH!”_ **

**_“BOOO!!! BOOOOO!!!”_ **

**_“NO BLOODY WAY!!”_ **

**_“THAT’S DAMN RIGHT UNFAIR!!”_ **

A vein in Dumbledore’s head twitched.

 ** _“SILENCE!!”_** He boomed once more.

When the indignant cries died down, Dumbledore raised his wand to the central pedestal in the Great Hall, magically ridding the shimmering treasure off its previous form, to reveal a great golden goblet alight with a powerful blue flame.

“The Goblet of Fire! Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night.“ He eyed everyone in the hall in warning.

“Do not do so lightly! If chosen, there's no turning back. As from this moment, The Triwizard Tournament has begun!”

The flame burned even brighter as the blue tendrils licked the edges of the goblet, dancing with a magical force. The sight was rather intimidating, so much so that students found it hard to continue their supper, occasionally glancing up to stare at the Goblet in awe.

Harry himself was finding it hard to ignore the Goblet, but his stomach came first and all the previous excitement had worked quite an appetite.

“Pity, aye, Harry?” Ron sighed wistfully.

“If only we were of age… Would be quite exciting, don’t you think?”

Harry could only nod his head in response. They all knew there was no chance of that happening anytime soon, so no use brooding about it. Whoever the Goblet selected from Hogwarts, he would honestly support them along with the rest of the school.

“The Tri-Wizard Tournament is not a game, Ron!”

And as Hermoine proceeded to nag at the spluttering red-head, much to the rest of their housemates’ amusement, Harry found himself staring at the raven-haired, now Slytherin, girl. A small part of him was glad that she was happy where she was, but a larger part of him wished she could be sitting with him and his friends. They had gotten along so well.

 

~

 

At the Slytherin table, as soon as the announcements were over, Draco had wasted no time in striking a conversation with the newcomer. He had already decided that if he could be-friend Snape and get her on his side, he would not only be able to get deeper into Professor Snape’s good books, but get back at Potter as well.

He extended his hand across the table.

“Joan Snape, right?”

Said girl looked up from her meal into charming pools of grey set on fine, handsome features framed with neatly styled platinum blonde hair. She placed her utensils aside, dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, before giving the Slytherin prince her full, undivided attention.

“That is correct. And if I may, you are…?” She questioned politely.

Draco smirked, pleased with her conduct. No doubt, a pure-blood raised with fine standards.

“The name’s Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. Sources tell me that you are familiar with Potter, the Weasel, and the Mudblood. It is rather unfortunate that you got mixed up with bad company before the school year started. You aren’t to be blamed though. You will soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others. You certainly don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

“OOOOO~!!!”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Joan took Draco’s hand in hers and proceeded to shake it violently. Draco blanched. He felt his eyes vibrating in its sockets.

“OH MAN. THIS IS LIKE, SUCH A LIFE-CHANGING EXPERIENCE.”

Draco withdrew his hand sharply, regarding Joan with a look of sheer disbelief. What had happened to that refined poise and grace but a minute ago? He decided to let it drop and neatened himself up from the force of her handshake.

“Er… right. Anyway, this is Blaise Zabini.” He placed his hand on said wizard’s shoulder.

“Only son of the famously beautiful witch, Ms. Zabini, with a reputation and fortune rivaled by no other. Well, maybe except for me. Regardless, his status is overtly renown and his abilities and proficiency as a pure-blood wizard is nothing short of excellent. Do excuse his aloof attitude. You shouldn’t pay heed to all things he says because that’s customary for him. He is a man of few words after all.”

Blaise smirked, regarding Joan through half-lidded eyes.

“Quite the pleasure.”

“YES, YES, YES. SO CAN I EAT NOW?”

Blaise and Draco shared strange looks, disturbed by the girl’s loud personality. Taking their silence as consent, Joan continued with her meal, nodding her head occasionally as she pretended to listen to Pansy Parkinson’s high-pitched bragging, self-introduction, and constant reminders that Draco and her were together.

Joan looked up from her meal to give the boys a pained expression. The words “Help me!” “Oh in Merlin’s beard, will she just shut up?!” and “How the fuck do you manage to deal with her!?” clearly written all over her face.

Draco chuckled, a tiny little sparkle dancing at the corners of his eyes. This girl wasn’t perfect, but she was interesting.

Just then, something across the Great Hall caught his eyes and Draco couldn’t help but let out a loud chortle. He crossed his arms and gave the widest sneer he could muster.

“Well, well, well, it seems like you have an admirer, Joan.”

“Uh?” Joan replied unintelligently and turned her head to gaze in the direction Draco was looking.

Joan’s eyes widened in joyful surprise and she couldn’t help the wide grin that inched it way up her lips, growing wider as emerald green eyes found hers.

“HARRY!!!” She jumped up from her seat, the sheer force causing the rest of the Slytherins to re-establish their balance on the bench, as she rushed towards the Gryffindor table.

“W-Wait! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Draco, get back here!”

It was quite a comical sight, really. Joan was laughing as she skipped along, while a disoriented Draco gave chase, and a stumbling Blaise fought to catch up to the two. And as they drew closer, Hermione knew things weren’t going to bode well. She sighed and placed her book on her lap.

“It’s nice to finally meet and greet you in proper, Joan!” Hermione began in a friendly manner, noticing that Harry was still staring and not really doing anything intelligent.

Joan laughed sheepishly.

“Eheheh… Sorry about that. Somehow I just kept missing the chance to introduce myself properly.”

“No problem, it’s understandable. Well, as you already know, that’s Harry Potter-”

“And I’m Ron by the way, Ron Weasley!” Ron interrupted, shaking Joan’s hand firmly.

“Heard that you saved Harry’s arse last night! Really appreciate it! Thanks! Ah-Owww!!” Hermione held Ron’s ear in a death-grip.

“And I’m Hermione Granger!” She smiled, letting go.

Ron grumbled something beneath his breath as he nursed his ear gently. Joan laughed, finding the exchange between them rather adorable. Ron on the other hand, gave her a look that clearly stated he thought her to be a sadist.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute? Anyway, the name’s Joan Severus Snape, but you guys can just call me Joan.” She whipped out her wand to cast a simple cooling charm on Ron’s inflamed ear.

“That is, if I may have the pleasure in calling you Harry, Ron and Hermione?”

The moment of friendship was broken however, when Draco grabbed Joan roughly by the shoulder and spun her around. Judging by the expression on his face, the blonde looked pissed and rather insulted.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing associating yourself with Potter, Weasel, and that filthy Mudblood?!” Draco ground out through clenched teeth.

“Draco! You’re causing a scene!” Blaise hissed but was ignored.

Draco continued to stare Joan down.

“As MY friend, you are NOT to socialize with the likes of –he sneered at the Golden trio as if they were vermin- them. As I recall, we shook on it.”

“And as I recall,” Joan began to size him up, not wanting to back down.

“There wasn’t any agreement as to who I may choose as my friends! Besides, what sort of SICK friendship requires THAT?”

“Fine! Potter and Weasley, I get it. But the Mudblood? Didn’t your parents teach you that Mudbloods are an INSULT to the wizarding name! Their mere existence is repulsive, utterly disgusting!”

By now, all the students of the Great Hall were staring, Draco and Joan’s argument drawing quite a commotion. Even Blaise, Harry, Ron and Hermoine dared not get involved.

“Well, excuse me, but THIS –she pointed at herself- Mudblood doesn’t think highly of YOU, either! Nothing is more filthy than the tongue of blind prejudice!”

She moved to stand in front of Hermoine who looked both touched and shocked at the same time. Joan placed her hand on the brunette’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Oh, and Malfoy? Before you go on insulting others’ parentage, you should recall exactly who I heir from!”

Draco took a short moment to process Joan’s words, before a confident smirk set itself on his lips. He sauntered towards the female, loomed threateningly before her and grabbed her chin harshly. He tugged her forward and stared down into hard-set red irises.

Her courage was impressive.

“But, if I recall YOUR parentage, there’s no way you can be a Mudblood.” Draco said silkily, figuring the girl had lied to defend Granger.

“Unless of course, you’re telling the truth, in which case, Professor Snape is nothing but a filthy mongrel himself. Humph. If there’s one thing worse than being a Mudblood, it’s contributing to the population with their kind.”

That insult did it.

Joan’s eyes flashed in pure rage as she forcefully yanked her chin away from Draco’s grip and pointed her wand at him. She screamed.

“You may insult me, Malfoy! But don’t you DARE insult him! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE INSULT HIM! LEVICORPUS!”

Before Draco knew what hit him, he saw the Great Hall upside-down and was violently flung in the air. Laughing insanely, Joan controlled Draco’s movements with her wand, flinging him across the room in whatever direction she pleased, with the poor and frightened blonde all the while dangling upside down.

However, just before she could have him permanently dangled on the chandelier, a stern and authoritative voice cut through the air, effectively silencing the laughing students.

Professor Severus Snape had risen from his seat and casted the counter-jinx, sending Draco sprawling on the floor as the magical reigns that controlled his body, left him. Professor Snape fixed the caster with an infuriated and displeased glare, and if looks could kill, the victim would have seen better days by getting run over by a hoard of Hippogriffs.

 ** _“MS. SNAPE!”_** He bellowed, uncaring of the fear the students and some Professors’ eyes held.

**_“THAT IS NOT THE PROPER CONDUCT A WITCH SUCH AS YOURSELF SHOULD HAVE EXHIBITED!_ **

**_I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU AND YOUR ACTIONS THUS FAR!_ **

**_I EXPECTED BETTER DISCIPLINE FROM YOU!_ **

**_FUTURE MISCONDUCT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!_ **

**_DO I MAKE MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR!”_ **

The Great Hall fell deathly silent. Even Dumbledore dared not come between Professor Snape and his uncharacteristic loss of temper. Harry looked at Joan worriedly, the girl having gone frightfully pale and trembled slightly under the scrutinizing glare of the Potions Master.

Joan bit her lip, placing her hands in front of her as she lowered her eyes to the floor in shame.

“Yes… Father.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

Harry stepped into the Great Hall half-disoriented. Angelina was bloody mad-she must have picked up all of Wood’s old habits. Quidditch practice before breakfast was a nightmare-he couldn’t imagine doing it three times a week for the rest of the year… _and there wasn’t even a season this year._

“Should have put him in Slytherin, the little worm-“

“Who does he think he is-”

“Even the Fat Friar doesn’t like him, and he likes _everyone_ in Hufflepuff-“

For a moment, Harry was completely oblivious of the buzzing going on around him, but the murmurs going on were too clear to miss. What had happened this time?

As he walked further in, he stopped short of the Hufflepuff table-it somehow seemed a lot larger than usual. In fact, more than half of the Hufflepuffs had strayed to one side of the table, despite the fact that their House table had plenty of room to spare for all of them and more.

At the other side of the empty table was someone Harry hadn’t seen before-there were under a thousand Hogwarts students and 4 years here had left him with a vague familiarity of every face in the school, especially with the many students who had hounded him during his first year (the famous ‘Harry Potter’ buzz), but he had never seen him before.

The boy wore thick clothing-at least two layers on everything. A thick coat of spiky hair sprouted from over his head, the long fringe pushing in between his glasses as he continued to read his book with a perpetual frown, like his life depended on it. Harry blinked. If anything, the boy looked harmless-almost a closet nerd, really. Yet everyone in the hall seemed to be keeping at least a good ten feet away from him…

…And now Harry knew why.

The boy’s silver eyes suddenly pierced into his light green ones, gleaming with malice. His indifferent expression slowly edged into a familiar look-Harry froze, his throat tight. It wasn’t anything like Snape’s look of loathe and hatred towards him, but one that had haunted him a long time ago in his first year, when hot hands had clutched desperately at his neck….

A look that screamed for his death.

“What took you?” piped in a familiar voice, shocking Harry out of his reverie. The red head raised an eyebrow curiously at his reaction, while chomping on a sandwich. “Come on, sit down.”

“Who’s that?” asked Harry, sitting down across Fred and George without taking his eyes off the mysterious boy.

“That, my friend-is the guy who single handedly pissed off the entire Hufflepuff house in his first day here.” Fred grinned. “They’re saying that he broke some bloke’s arm during Herbology, and threatened to cripple anyone else who tried to help him. He’s quite the little psycho.”

“How come we didn’t see him during the Sorting?”

“He was late,” answered George, before Fred could finish opening his mouth. The twins exchanged contrasting looks. “Got sorted the day after the ceremony was over. Apparently, he’s a transfer from Durmstrang-“

“ _Expelled_ from Durmstrang-“

““In any case, the kid shouldn’t have waltzed in here and did what he did in Hufflepuff, of all the Houses.” George interjected, with a happier note at noticing Fred’s miffed reaction. “They’re ridiculously loyal.”

“Strangely enough though, he’s not getting punished for it,” finished Fred.

 _He broke someone’s **arm** and got away with it?_ Harry dared himself to glance over at the Hufflepuff table again…

…But the boy was already gone.

~

“I still think you’re over thinking this!” huffed Hermione, as they stormed down the moving stairs. Harry exchanged a defeated look with Ron, as they braced themselves mentally for the fast flurry of words her lecture would contain.

“Hermione, you weren’t _there_ ,” said Harry with a sigh. “You should have seen his eyes, he…”

“…Looked like he wanted you dead, right, but you don’t even know him!” She stopped as they reached the top of the stairs, catching their breath along the corridors. “Maybe that’s just the way his face is. Did you ever think about that, or were you two just busy believing whatever everyone else says about him?”

That was surprising. Hermione seemed to sound even more indignant than usual, even for Hermione. He opened his mouth to ask, but Ron already said it.

“Do you have a thing for this bloke, or something?”

“That’s ridiculous, Ron!” Hermione folded her arms, her chin sticking out defiantly. “Just because-“

“It’s the intense way he reads his books,” said Ron cheekily, and Harry nodded with a grin. She flushed, stomping off without completing her speech while the two boys high-fived each other.

“Where’s she going?” asked Harry after a moment, noticing that she had disappeared from the corridor.

Ron grinned, shooting him a look that clearly said ‘Are you serious?’ Harry laughed as they said it in unison.

“The library.”

All events about Quidditch practice, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and Joan temporarily forgotten.

~

Lucas sighed, staying a safe distance behind the rest of the Hufflepuffs after Transfiguration. He had already prepared himself for the worst after the incident, but this was worse.

At Durmstrang, he had won over his peers with his advanced, high-level proficiency at Battle Magic and the Dark Arts…this didn’t cause them to suspect that they were being used, when he asked them for small favors like doing his homework or going over some text...young men were impressionable at his age, and admiration and respect easily got him what he wanted. Unfortunately, his seniors had known this as well, and it hadn’t set well with them that a child was receiving that much attention at his age.

Fighting back was a bad option. Three 6th year students in a coma at St.Mungo’s-until _now._ It hadn’t mattered to their parents that he had been attacked first, or how much his teachers had favored him-there was no getting out of this one. Aberforth had been so disappointed…

On the surface, he’d gotten off lightly-no Azkaban sentence, mere expulsion and a long scar on his right arm. Internally, however, he’d lost Aberforth’s respect, and was forced to attend Hogwarts: which was a complete joke to both him and his mentor. Durmstrang would have helped him- _had_ helped him with his goals, and now because of a few ignorant boys, he was going to lose them.

 _There’s no getting out of this_ , admitted Lucas to himself reluctantly, as he stormed down the corridor, deviating from the rest of his year’s House members who had opted to go back to the room. _I didn’t control my temper and now I’ve lost all hope. Maybe I should tell Sprout, admit I cant-_

It was completely out of the question, he decided, especially after what had happened earlier that morning. The irritating bushy, brown haired girl from Gryffindor who kept beating him to the library was a prime example of what would happen if anyone knew his secret. It was humiliating, her remarks about him needing to read out loud each word from the book.

 _Speaking of humiliation,_ he thought, as a group of Slytherin girls jeered at a Hufflepuff girl in front of him. He took a glance as the crying girl from his house ran past him before cringing-much to his horror; her nose was completely burnt off.  How awful.

To his dismay, the girl stopped short of running past him, her eyes welled up with hot tears and a look that clearly screamed for his help, his _loyalty_ to defend her…but it was so hard to not stare at what used to be her nose. In fact, he wondered, how was she sniffing that hard the way she was _without a nose?_ That was really something else. Before he could say something, the girl had already stuck a rude gesture in his face and walked off.

“Really, Eloise, a spell for pimples? Not like you didn’t need it…” sniggered Pansy Parkinson. For a moment, no one laughed. She shot a look at the girls around her, who promptly burst into forced laughter.

“Stop it! Leave me alone!”

Lucas almost felt sorry for the poor girl, if she hadn’t been so rude. She looked like she was about to have a mental breakdown.

“That’s a way to teach a girl not to put her nose where it doesn’t belong…oh wait you don’t have-“

_Oh no._

Lucas saw it in slow motion-the way Eloise’s eyes had hardened, her red eyes brimming with tears had forced out it’s bit of fury-her fist, already clutched, reaching into her robes and…

“No!” he yelled, and just before the spell struck, Lucas had dived and tackled Pansy out of the way, while flipping himself in mid-air so that she wouldn’t crash painfully against the floor. Pansy collapsed on top of him uncomfortably, her forehead hitting his against the floor, and he groaned. She was heavy.

He shot an angry look past Pansy, but Eloise had already retreated down the hall. His head was hurting and the girl on top of him smelled bad. He closed his eyes in exasperation, taking a moment on the ground to sigh.

For a moment, all was peacefully silent. Then…

“…y-you saved me,” whispered Pansy, flushed and stuttering.

“Do you mind?” grumbled Lucas, trying to push her off without actually having to touch her. Naturally, he failed miserably. “You’re ridiculously fat.”

But Pansy didn’t seem capable of processing anything-in fact; she was letting herself sink further onto him. He squirmed. Her teeth were dangerously close to his, and they were HUGE TEETH.

“You saved my life,” she whispered, _huskily_ this time.

“I _really_ didn’t,” groaned Lucas, warning alarms going off in his head like fireworks. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he tried to push her off him without looking directly at her face, which was no doubt lighted up like a candle on fire. “Please, _please_ get off me.”

“You smell nice…”

“…Wait, what now?”

Lucas’ eyes widened, horrified as the girl pushed up against him, closing her eyes softly as her lips puckered…

…And another Slytherin girl yanked Pansy off him. With one hand.

Lucas shot her an incredulous look as he hurriedly picked himself up, dusting off his robes.

“Thanks. _Whoa._ ” He hadn’t really noticed it before, but the girl was really hot despite the short hair. She had a nice shape with curves in all the right places, and her hand was really soft, and her eyes were really pretty, and…

“Hmm?” Her lips pursed as she glanced curiously at him. His mouth hung open for a moment longer, before he managed a-

“Nothing.”

She grinned at him, before yanking Pansy’s collar off towards the dungeons. “Come on, we’re due in Potions…”

The girl sauntered off confidently, leaving behind the awestruck boy in her wake.

Who _was_ that girl?

~

Joan strutted down the stairs, Pansy struggling behind her. The high-pitched voice of the bigger girl echoed throughout the corridor, as she lamented upon her wasting the passionate moment with the tall, dark and handsome boy who had heroically saved her life at great expense to his own from that horrible girl without a nose…

At some point of time she even went into the details about how it had happened and why they were meant to be together, but Joan had already mentally tuned her out with a clubbing song playing loudly in her head. God-would that girl ever shut up?

As she entered, the loud commotion caused by the two Houses-Slytherin and Gryffindor-died into hushed whispers. Instinctively she looked out for a familiar face, that of her father, Potter and his friends, or even Draco Malfoy-but none of them were here yet.

Sighing, she took a seat by herself at the far end of the Slytherin tables, where the rest of the students continued to whisper to themselves, undoubtedly about her. Anyone looking at Joan would have seen her eyes were rife with irritation, but to be fair to them, it wasn’t everyday that a teacher’s child showed up in the class that the teacher taught at.

…let alone attend Hogwarts in the first place. Most of them were already simply stunned by the fact that Snape had a daughter. Maybe even appalled, or for the Gryffindors, disgusted-she knew that they didn’t like her father very much.

“This seat taken?”

A voice broke her train of thought, his tone energetic yet soft at the same time. The famous Harry Potter stood behind the chair beside her, with a nervous hand in his messy hair and a small smile playing across his lips. He looked so cute, in a lost child sort of way that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, it’s not.” She gestured towards the other side of the tables, where the Gryffindors had segregated from the other House and were now giving them strange looks. “Don’t you usually sit with your friends there?”

“Hermione’s got her hands full helping Ron. Besides,” he shrugged, “you’re my friend, too.”

“Aww, how sweet.” She chuckled.

“Eww,” muttered Pansy, but they both ignored her. Harry slid in beside her as Snape walked into the class. The faintest hint of a smile almost reached his lips-until he saw who her lab partner was, and scowled.

However, the two didn’t seem to care, too engaged where they in their conversation as the class waited for students to fill in and take their seats.

Harry had his chin propped up on his hand as he gazed at his new desk partner for the day. Joan had bent down and seemed to be fumbling with her bag. Upon finding what she was looking for, she turned to face Harry with a pleasant smile and said boy couldn’t help but blink cutely at her in surprise.

Over her eyes, Joan had on a pair of rather large, black-framed glasses.

“Y-You wear glasses!?” He whispered excitedly.

“Yeah, but only when it comes to reading, doing work or mainly when I need to see things from afar like when flying.”

“Oh. It’s funny, you know?” Harry ventured.

“Suddenly seeing someone with glasses in the wizarding world. Most people here either have perfect eyesight or magically enchanted themselves to have 50/50 perfect vision.”

“I know right!” Joan bubbled enthusiastically.

“Somehow I prefer the good old glasses better. Something about enchanted vision gets me all queasy. What’s your degree anyway?”

Harry chuckled. “You know, no one has asked me that in a very, very, long time.”

“Well, too bad, Wonder Boy. I’m breaking the streak. Mine’s 350 left, 375 right.”

“You have NO idea how freaky this is getting right now…”

“Exactly the same?”

At Harry’s nod, the two of them broke into wide grins and quiet laughter bubbled between them. Joan paused in her giggling and began to reach both hands out to Harry’s face. Her fingers brushed the sides of his face briefly, causing the sudden contact to produce a slight tingling in Harry’s gut. Joan slowly began to remove his glasses and somehow, he didn’t find himself minding much as he simply let her.

A sudden blurriness graced his vision, before quickly evening out again in full clarity. Harry blinked comically at the figure before him who now wore his glasses, and as he felt at the frames over his face, he knew he was wearing hers.

The two smiled and laughed shyly at each other, both pushing their glasses up their noses simultaneously, before directing their attention to Professor Snape.

The lesson began with a brief on the potion they were about to make: the Fungiface Potion, abusing it would cause fungus to swell dangerously at the surface of a person’s skin, but properly used would help enhance and extract useful medicinal properties from fungus.

Snape explained that he would be awarding points to the best-completed potion, and be demonstrating both the positive and negative effects. Joan could have sworn he smirked at Neville Longbottom when he said ‘negative’, especially while the boy was already shivering in anticipation of the disaster that he would undoubtedly create.

As the class progressed, she couldn’t help but notice her father staring down Harry intently all the time, circling him like a hawk. The poor boy reacted as expected-nervousness and clumsiness. Pretty soon, he was almost making as much mistakes as Nevile, whose potion already had sparks shooting out of it and was a dangerous green-yellow instead of a calm blue.

While Snape lashed out at Neville for his complete failure, Joan quickly slinked over to Harry’s side. The boy gave a sheepish grin upon seeing her pop up from behind him.

“You look like you could use some help,” she laughed, grabbing the stirring stick that hung uselessly on his hand.

His shoulders relaxed in relief. “Thanks.” He nudged towards the direction of her potion. “You sure? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Nah. It has to simmer for a few minutes anyway,” replied Joan confidently, stirring his potion back from light green to yellow. After a while, she groaned. His potion was a lot thicker than it should have been, and stirring was starting to hurt her arms.

…But before she could let go, she felt the warmth against her back as his strong arms held onto the stirrer…and her hands. She blushed momentarily from his sudden touch, and his breath against her neck as he helped manage her stirs.

“You were doing it wrongly,” said Harry, his voice barely a whisper. For a moment, she considered throwing him off her-any other guy and she would have kicked him in the balls. But his hands were slightly shaky and he wasn’t trying to touch anything else as he moved the stirrer easily-completely sincere about helping her.

At some point, she was sure that he was aware of the effect she had on him. But somehow it would feel weird to just break away from what they were doing-and she couldn’t say she wasn’t starting to feel _it_ too…whatever _it_ was supposed to be, at least.

She breathed in the scent of his body as he guided her along-he smelled surprisingly good for a guy who’d just created a disastrously bad-smelling potion while in the dungeons for the better part of an hour. For a moment they stayed like that…somewhat transfixed on the moment, and the warmth that she got from him. There wasn’t a real way to describe it-but comforting and safe was a good start. It seemed to go on forever.

…And then her cauldron exploded. Malfoy screamed hysterically as fungus broke out all over his face-he had tried to dump a wrong ingredient in at the wrong time.

“Crap it simmered too long!” she exclaimed, practically leaping towards her damaged cauldron.

In a snap of fingers, Snape appeared by her side, looking black and positively furious at the same time.

“Potter, you will not distract my daughter with your incompetence,” said Snape coldly. “Next to Longbottom. _Now._ ” Joan was so shocked that she almost fell over her cauldron.

“Father! You can’t-“

“Ms Snape, you will escort Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. _Move,_ Potter, now.”

“Oh _now_ it’s ‘Ms Snape’…”

“Leave. Now.”

Joan growled, yanking Malfoy off. Harry sent her a helpless grin as he struggled over to the other side of the room. She sighed, as she watched Snape contentedly return to writing instructions on the blackboard; before exiting the dungeons with a weeping blonde.

She was _really_ going to need to talk with Father soon, she decided. He was just awful to Harry. And then she realized exactly what had just happened. And then she recalled she still had Harry’s glasses on.

And finally she asked herself-what was she doing…?

 

~

 

The trip to the Medical Wing had been nothing short of awkward. Malfoy’s face had been scarred so badly that he insisted on hiding the damage, resulting in Joan having to loop arms with the blonde and guide him down the hallways as quickly as the pair could afford to.

Along the way, Joan had her mind occupied with the previous events that occurred in Potions class regarding a certain Boy Who Lived, while Malfoy had gone deathly silent- not even a whimper, whine or complaint. On normal circumstances, students who knew the blonde would definitely gawk and gossip about his uncharacteristic behavior, but it was now class time and the hallways were empty save the ghosts that glided past.

After much time climbing and maneuvering their way around the moving stairs, they finally reached the Medical Wing. Upon entering the empty and peacefully quiet room, Joan guided and helped Malfoy gently on the bed.

“Wait here. I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey-”

“Wait!”

A pale hand suddenly shot forward to tug at her sleeve, halting her as she turned to face her charge. Malfoy’s hands no longer covered his face and his eyes were wide and pleading. He occasionally bit his bottom lip and struggled to say something, anything, but words simply failed him. Joan gazed at him half in question and impatience.

With nothing shielding his face from view, Joan could see the extent of damage the Fungiface had on the blonde once finely chiseled features. Angry red and purple swellings bubbled and jutted out at offending angles, the swellings growing worse by the minute as it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open.

At that moment, something in the raven haired girl’s heart melted. No longer did she feel insulted by Malfoy’s presence, the earlier anger having boiled away to sympathy. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Malfoy had tried to sabotage her potion to get back at her for the humiliation she caused him in the morning. Maybe it was his distorted face, or her previous guilt from overdoing this morning’s spell on him, but Joan just knew she wanted him to be all right.

She took his hand and laid it out on the mattress gently, before gently brushing aside his hair that had fell forward from its previously gelled style.

“We’ll talk later, alright? We have to get you cured first.”

Joan dashed off to seek out the school nurse. She returned, successful, with the flailing elderly Mediwitch by her side. Madam Pomfrey, upon seeing the condition of Malfoy’s face, rushed to his side in an instant, tutting every now and then.

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy! If it isn’t Potter, it’s you! Can’t you two stay out of trouble for at least a whole week?”

As Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over the poor blonde, casting spells and forcing potions down his throat, Joan made herself comfortable on a nearby bed.

As the minutes ticked by and the school hallways started to fill with the chatter of students as they made their way to their next classes, Joan continued to sit and watch the Mediwitch do her stuff. After mumbling her final spell, Madam Pomfrey began clearing the empty vials of potions she had used and turned to regard the silent female with a critical gaze.

“Ms Snape, if I’m right?” Joan nodded.

“You should be in class, young lady! It is unwise to miss so much on your first day.”

“With all due respect, Madam Pomfrey, I would like to stay here until Malfoy is fit to move about again. Professor Snape ordered me to escort him here from a rather nasty potions accident caused by my negligence, and I’ll like to take responsibility for my actions.”

Madam Pomfrey fell silent from the girl’s polite yet mature commanding tone. Indeed, Snape had taught her well and that was the nicest way a student had spoken to her in a long time. She felt herself giving in to a nod.

“Very well, my dear, but do let the poor boy sleep. I gave him a vial of Dreamless Sleep and he should be well enough to leave once he wakes up. I'll be in my room if you need me.”

As Madam Pomfrey took her leave, Joan had risen from her sitting position to approach the bed Malfoy was lying on. She gazed down at his sleeping face, now peaceful as the fungi and swelling started to disappear as the seconds ticked by. The boy had a scowl on his face even in sleep and Joan snorted, suddenly reminded of her father. Brushing his hair away from his face like she had done so earlier, she noticed the Slytherin prince’s features had softened, almost as if someone had put a stop to his nightmares.

Pulling up a chair to settle next to her charge, Joan began threading her fingers through silky smooth blonde locks, stroking Malfoy’s hair fondly as he snoozed on unknowingly.

And as the hours passed and Joan began nodding off, she found herself questioning for the second time that day on what she was doing, before sleep claimed her.

 

~

 

Draco groaned, cracking his lids open to come face to face with the starkly white ceiling above. His gaze shifted around the room as he blinked every now and then, trying to clear the blurriness of his vision induced by the Dreamless Sleep potion.

‘I’m… in the medical wing?’ He thought drowsily, accessing his new environment.

“Great! You’re finally up! Any longer and I thought I would’ve died!”

Draco sat up quickly, startled by the new voice, and immediately regretted it. Black spots danced across his vision and his head suddenly felt a little too heavy as if someone had dropped a large boulder on it. He held his head and moaned miserably. Just then, he felt soft hands on his chest and the back of his head, and felt himself being lowered back down on the bed.

“Ok, blondie, let’s avoid anymore sudden movements until the Dreamless Sleep fully wears off…”

 The hands retreated and Draco Malfoy found himself staring up at brilliant crimson eyes shielded with familiar round-rimmed glasses. With the wild black hair and trademark glasses, Draco would have thought the person to be Harry Potter himself, but the slightly more effeminate features, eye colour and pitch were totally off. He rolled his eyes.

Great, just perfect. Of all the people in Hogwarts, he was stuck with Potter’s freaky female twin-thingy of a Mudblood.

“Great, now my robes are stained with your Mudblood germs. Where’s a fireplace when you need one.” He drawled.

“Oh, enough with that patronizing attitude, Malfoy. We both know you need me right now in your current state.” Joan replied in a distracted manner as she continued to peel an apple, her wand controlling the motions of the spell ever so smoothly.

“A Malfoy needs no one. Especially not a Mudblood like you!” He bit out spitefully, as he glared daggers at his bedside partner.

“Mm hm… You know, the more you say it, the less it sounds like a derogatory term. Here.”

The peeled apple floated over to the grumpy blonde and simply hovered before him, as if patiently waiting for him to take it. Draco however, continued to glare at her. Joan sighed heavily.

“Look, you’ve been asleep for 4 hours straight and missed lunch and tea, not to mention classes. You really should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry-”

As if on cue, his stomach gave a loud growl of protest, the sound seemingly amplified in the silence of the ward. Draco flushed hotly in embarrassment, his hand going up to clench at his empty stomach. Things weren’t going his way today, he mused. He wouldn’t be humiliated any further from this- this- this filthy Potter-lover.

Joan hid an amused smirk behind her hand. On one hand, she wanted to smack the arrogant prick silly, but on the other hand, she kind of enjoyed the torturous emotions of denial flash across his face. Boy, Ron would have a field day if he saw how put-out and defeated the blonde looked right now. However, now wasn’t the time for emotional black mail.

“We’ll pretend we never had that discussion, ok?” Joan managed kindly.

Draco said nothing and grabbed the apple, biting into the juicy morsel. He remained silent as he ate, contemplating his next course of action. Somehow, he just couldn’t seem to get back at this girl. Everything simply backfired at him and now karma surely seemed to know how to nip him in the butt by leaving him and his current problem, stuck in the same room together.

“Erm, Malfoy? What did you want to tell me just now before…”

“Shut up, scrubber.”

Draco’s pride was seriously wounded now, all thanks to this stupid, self-centered, rude, obnoxious, idiotic, moronic, crude little-

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Draco could have smacked himself. Surely that sounded incredibly intelligent, and his wide grey eyes and gapping mouth probably took the cake for world-class genius of the year.

Joan sighed, adverting her gaze away from Draco’s piercing one, to stare out the window. It was late afternoon and the skies were gradually turning a faint orangey hue.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you this morning in the Great Hall. That was uncalled for and reflected very poorly on myself. I didn’t mean to… I just… I just lost my temper. I couldn’t allow someone to insult Professor Snape like that. He-he means the world to me. I’m so, so sorry, Malfoy.”

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Draco couldn’t believe this girl was apologizing so profusely when she, he reluctantly admitted, wasn’t the only guilty party in this room. Instead of flaring up at him from the Potions Class sabotage, or naming a hundred and one reasons why he was a total and utter prat, she _apologized._

The world wasn’t how he used to remember.

“Consider it even, Snape.” Draco crossed his arms.

“But, the potion exploded in _your face-”_

She snapped her mouth shut when Draco had turned to glare at her once again, the corners of his lips twitching irritably. That marked the end of their discussion.

“Oh, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy dropped by an hour ago while you were still asleep, by the way. Your friends really do care a lot about you. Your girlfriend looked really worried!”

Draco raised his hand to silence the girl, an irritated scowl marring his handsome features as his free hand massaged his forehead tiredly.

“Don’t, just… just _don’t_!”

“Don’t what?” Joan cocked her head to the side curiously, in a manner Draco couldn’t help but find slightly charming-

_Merlin, he was off his rocker._

“Pansy isn’t my girlfriend. She just clings to me like a bloody leech and has it in her warped head that we’re a ‘perfect’ couple. ‘Pansy’ and ‘girlfriend’ _do not_ go together. If those two words and ideas _ever_ meet, lives would be lost, I will self-combust and the Malfoy name will stop at me. Got it?”

Joan burst out into a fit of giggles as she clutched her stomach, her shoulders shaking as laughter rolled over her in waves. Draco couldn’t help the barest upward twitch of his lips when he saw her doing her best to nod her head in consent. The raven haired female soon calmed down.

“Was that… a joke, Malfoy?” She asked with a grin.

 “Humph. I don’t joke, Snape. Whatever do you mean?” Draco replied with a smirk that clearly said otherwise. He could get used to this.

“And since when was Blaise, ‘Blaise’ to you? I thought that arsehole hated Mudbloods.”

“You know, it’s funny how the both of you insult and hurl curses at each other, but still somehow mean well.” Joan mused, combing her fingers through her messy mop of hair.

“And to answer your question, yes, Blaise still hates Mudbloods, but somehow we share the same cryptic sense of humor and we get on well enough, and let’s just leave it as that.”

Draco hummed but then shrugged it off. He wasn’t too concerned on his best friend’s unpredictable preferences. It wasn’t the first time Blaise seemed to act on or do something that was seemingly against his principles or contradictory to his beliefs and statements. The boy was strange, but he was a true friend and not bought with money or reputation, and Draco would have it no other way.

Draco found his eyes trailing up and over Joan’s form, accessing her in a different light. He frowned however, when his eyes landed on the glasses perched on her nose.

“Would you _please_ take those appalling lenses off? You practically _reek_ of that goodie-two-shoes Potterhead!”

Joan smirked and did as requested, before staring at Draco through sexily narrowed eyes.

“Do I detect a tinge of jealousy?”

“No, you radar’s just way off.”

Joan gave him a strange look, which Draco couldn’t help but flush hotly at. He huffed and pouted.

“What? I’ll have you know that my Muggle Studies are actually quite decent!”

“Of course.”

Draco started to shift around in bed and Joan moved to help the blonde sit up in a more comfortable position for conversation. The Dreamless Sleep had more or less worn off and Draco was dying to ask the question that nagged at the back of his mind ever since he woke up.

“Why did you stay with me all the way? You could have gone off as soon as you brought me here, so why didn’t you?”

Joan rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, messing up her hair even more. She looked into questioning light grey pools and sighed softly.

“I couldn’t just leave you. I don’t know why, but… you just seemed so lonely.”

Draco snarled, insulted, as he reached forward to grab at the front of Joan’s robes, pulling her close.

“Are you implying that I lack the capabilities of making friends, Snape?” Draco snapped dangerously.

“No, I’m implying that you lack the capabilities of making _true_ friends, Mr. Malfoy.”

“And what would you know about true friends!”

Draco released his hold on the girl harshly, and turned to look away. The barest hint of tears peeked from the corners of his eyes, as he fisted the blanket tightly, his jaw set firm.

A Malfoy would not show weakness. A Malfoy had pride above all else. A Malfoy had carriage. A Malfoy was regal, proud, respectable, powerful, commanding, strong-

Just then a pair of arms snaked around his torso from behind, pulling the blonde flush against a very female chest. A voice whispered gently into his ear.

“True friends aren’t bought. They are here when you need them the most.”

The tears finally fell and Draco reached up to grab on the arms around his torso, desperately. His head was bowed and his shoulders shook as quiet sobs wrecked his frame. And all the while, the warm presence behind him continued to hold onto him, stroking his hair in a soothing manner. Draco breathed in shakily.

“I-I-It’s Draco. N-Not Malfoy. Draco.” He paused.

“And the thing that I wanted to tell you earlier… Thanks.”

_For being a friend._

“No problem… Draco.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, here’s a long chapter for y’all. Was stuck in camp, so I couldn’t post!**

**…for reference, that means I’m an army boy.**

**~**

**Chapter 4**

The days after the Triwizard tournament was announced had been filled with ear-buzzing excitement. More so on this particular Thursday, the day when the Hogwarts Champions would be announced during the Halloween dinner that night.

Hopeful contenders would begin to brag and showcase their prowess to their circle of friends. Others would talk about the exciting prospects of the visitors from the foreign wizarding schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang-each with their own obvious appeal for the boy and girls. They would cheer, gossip and chatter about it for weeks on end, until the arrival of their guests.

However, in the wee hours of this morning there was no activity whatsoever-apart from a particular bushy haired brown eyed girl who was doing what she usually did-hanging out in the library before it officially opened for the day, trying to cover her curriculum in advance. She had processed quite a bit of the spell on the train ride, and was now attempting to master it at the small corner of the library void of books.

_“Accio!”_

The spell worked the way it had in the last two hours-it didn’t.

Hermione threw back her head in exasperation for a moment, before taking the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ into her hands. Her wand landed with a soft thud on the table. It was a lot more difficult than she thought it would be. What was she doing wrong?

She picked up her wand again. It had been almost two hours. She hadn’t taken this long to master a spell before, not for a very long time. It made her all the more determined. She glared at the bag across the table, pointed her wand and cried:

_“Accio!”_

She groaned.

 _“Accio! Accio!_ AC-CI-O! Oh come ON!”

She stamped, tramped and yelled a little. Nothing happened. Hermione slumped against the chair disappointed, as she reviewed the book again. She _had_ to be doing something wrong…

_Huh?_

She could have sworn she heard something. But Madam Pince had left already-the 4th year had been in her library so often in the past four years that they had a strong level of trust: she could come before hours as long as she didn’t damage any books. Which of course, Hermione thought, was rather obvious, and would never happen on her account.

“H-hello?”

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips before a pair of thick oversized jeans, and double-layered long sleeved shirts emerged from the shadows. Hermione bit her lip, a little disappointed. Then again, it wasn’t as if Ron, or Harry for that matter-would ever visit her in the library.

“You’re still here,” said the new Hufflepuff boy, the small smirk on his face. Lucas-that was his name, if she remembered correctly. He looked a little sleepy, and his hair was bed-messy, like he had just woken up. “I was wondering what all the screaming was about.”

“I was _not_ screaming,” argued Hermione indignantly, folding her arms. But the boy’s irritating expression was unwavering, as he comfortably settled down in the chair across her, placing his right leg across the side of the chair. He looked rather unkempt that way, and she frowned.

“Do you mind?” said Hermione haughtily. “My bag is there.”

“Oh. Yeah.” And with a yawn, he unceremoniously dumped her bag on the floor.

“Hey!”

But before she could call him a bully and threaten to have him reported, or demand to know what he was doing in the library before opening hours, or accuse him of being a creepy stalker, he had already turned serious.

“Listen,” said Lucas, the grin no longer on his face. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. But you and I have been in this library _today_ for the cumulative time of at least three hours-“

“Four-“

“…And I don’t want to see you spend another _four_ hours doing this spell wrong. It’s just painful, really.”

She felt heat surge to the surface of her cheeks, her fist clenching and her teeth grit. Who did he think he was? He clearly didn’t know her at all.

“FOR your information-“ shot Hermione, taking to her feet. Her fingers clutched the table in a death grip. “I happen to be the smartest student in my year, and I work the hardest, too! I don’t need you to tell me that I can’t do anything!”

He blinked, completely taken aback. To be honest, she was as well. She had never been the bragging type, and she didn’t honestly believe she was the best student-what on earth was this guy bringing out of her that made her feel so upset?

“Look,” he said finally, looking rather apologetic. He could barely look her in the eye as she folded her arms, and a hand was in his hair, unsure of what to do. “I’m not saying you can’t do it.  I’m sure you work really hard for your grades and whatever. But you _are_ doing it wrongly. Now what does the book say?”

She wanted to protest, but he had already closed the gap between them. Before she could step back, he had already one hand on her head, pushing it closer to the book they were overlooking. She let out a muffled ‘hey!’ before he started again.

“What does the book say?” he asked again, in a softer, gentler tone.

“Come on!” cried out Hermione. “You know very well what it says, and that I know what it says as well-“

“Read it out to me.”

Hermione sighed. Fine, she’d humor him. She’d wasted all this time trying and failing anyway, what was a minute more? Besides, after he failed to ‘teach’ her, she’d at least have something to say next time to get him off her back.

Literally.

~

It was way too early in the morning for Joan Severus Snape to be awake, but she was anyway. The pretty, tomboyish girl grumbled to herself as she shook herself out of her sleepy state, leaping off her uncomfortable bed with ease. Father had spoiled her too much-she was used to a bigger, cozier bed than the ones in the girl's dormitories. 

Half-dazed, she knocked on the toilet door absentmindedly, and grunted in response to the angered squeals of a certain blonde haired boy (I can't believe he gets up _this_ early to do his hair, thought Joan exasperatedly).

“Draco! I’m going to see Hagrid! Don’t tell!”

There was a muffled ‘Whatever’, followed by complaints on how her impeccable timing had ruined his hair.

She shook her head good-naturedly and made her way out of the dungeons.

If there was anything that Joan could appreciate about the Slytherin Common Room, it was the ambience and view it provided-the soft, green glow of the torches and looking right beneath the surface of the lake-much like living in a submarine. It was such a contrast from her regular eagle eye view in the sky. No matter how many times she had seen this in the past few days, it never failed to captivate her attention-at least for the moment before she left the room.

Being awake at this time had it's own benefits, Joan mused. The corridors were much easier to walk around when they weren't filled with loud, boisterous students scrambling to get to their next class-even more so without them stopping and staring (was it really such a big deal, that she was a teacher's daughter?). But most importantly, she could spend quality time with her beloved dragon, Cerberus.

In moments she had made her way down to Hagrid's hut, where the big man had reluctantly agreed to let her take Cerberus off his hands for a while. Hagrid had handled the dragon fairly well, apart from small burn marks on his hands and the side of his face. Cerberus was looking pleased and rather well fed. The dragon puffed a contented breath of fire upon seeing her, and nuzzled her side, almost knocking her to the ground.

It felt good to be back in the air, flying again. Where she could see everything and everywhere. Whether or not it was true, it gave her a sense of security somehow-knowing and seeing everything from where she was on top of Cerberus. The dragon roared happily as it dived, plummeting a good 50 feet down before curving back up at the last minute.

The thrill of it was amazing, too.

As Cerberus whizzed over a turret, she could make out a lone figure in red whizzing around the Quidditch pitch, practicing passionately. Messy black hair and Gryffindor robes flying at a ridiculous speed only matched by her current ride-she had no doubt who it was, and the very person she was somewhat avoiding.

What happened yesterday? She didn’t do ‘moments’. She didn’t ‘move fast’ _._ Father had warned her about the dangers of being too reckless in love-personally, she thought that he was being a little too overprotective-but he had a point here.

Yesterday should not have happened the way it did.

 _Not yet, anyway,_ whispered a voice in her head.

_Wait, what?_

A gush of wind whizzing by them whipped her out of her internal argument with herself-and after a quick whirlwind turnaround, Harry was sidelining Cerberus, keeping pace with the dragon as they moved at alarming speeds. It was impossible not to notice and laugh as he grinned confidently at her, his eyes twinkling, daring her to do what she knew he wanted.

He was so much more confident on a broom. And she knew the words coming out of his mouth before he could say them…

“Race ya!”

The Firebolt burst into acceleration mode, darting towards the field in a steep dive. Cerberus traded her a look momentarily; snorting proudly as he spread his wings, as if he hardly regarded the broom as a challenge. A smile crossed her face as she braced herself.

In an instant Cerberus powerful wings had smashed against the friction of the wind, almost causing a sonic boom as he accelerated to catch up with the Firebolt. Harry was so taken aback that he almost crashed into the ground. 

“You okay!” yelled Joan, as she watched Harry struggle with the broom to a halt.

“Yeah,” he yelled back, somewhat out of breath. She chuckled as he fumbled over getting back on his broom.

“Follow me!” he yelled, ushering them to follow him. “There’s something I want you to see.”

~

“ _Accio,_ the summoning spell,” she read loudly and clearly. “Dictionary pronounced _Ac-c-io._ In order for this spell to work, one must focus on a clear visual of the object in question in mind’s eye while concentrating on magical energy at the tip of the wand.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, Lucas said nothing, thoughtfully studying the floor. A moment later, he clapped his hands together, looking at her confidently.

“First of all, it’s _A-ki-o_ , not _Ac-c-io_.  You want to drag out your ‘ki’. Then-“

“But the book says-“

“I know what the book says,” said Lucas, sounding rather irritated at being interrupted. “It’s not wrong, but this is much faster.”

Hermione stared at him. It was hard to describe how she looked-whether she was incredulous or just plain cynical. Either way, she was at least somewhat put off, biting her lip in that cute way with the little fire in her eyes.

“You’re full of it,” she said finally, closing her book with such a hard clap that Lucas almost fell off his seat. She begun to make her way to the door, not looking pleased at all. “I don’t even…its almost time for breakfast, I’ll see you-“

“Wait, you think I can’t do it?” challenged Lucas. Hermione groaned, whipping around to face him. The confident, annoyingly cocky smirk was back on his face again.

“Well…”

“You’re right,” he said with a shrug, looking lost. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m certainly not capable of learning advanced spells.” That was really not the response she had expected, and the surprise on her face showed it.

It didn’t last.

“I mean,” he started, “ _Accio book,”_ and Hermione could only gape as the book- _her book,_ flew out of her hand while Lucas caught it deftly. “Its not like- _Accio hairband-_ I could possibly be better- _Accio bag-_ than the smartest witch in school.”

He grinned, holding her bag, hair band and book. “Could I?”

Her face was expressionless-and for a moment Lucas wondered if he had gone too far. Without the rubber band to hold her hair in place, it had flowed down to her usual long, bushy hair. Not that it made her look any less pretty-prettier, even.

At last she breathed; her voice laced with unpleasant shock. “You have to _say_ the object?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, relieved that she hadn’t even noticed the change in her appearance.

“How did you-“

“I work pretty hard too,” he summed up dismissively. “Look, I wasn’t trying to show off. I went too far, its fine, you can do things your own way-“

“Okay,” she breathed, her hair softly pushing against her cheeks. “Fine. I’m listening.” She pulled her wand out of her robes, looking absolutely resolute and serious. “Teach me.”

Lucas frowned. “If you don’t learn it…” He tossed her bag on the table behind him, his silver eyes matching her determined blue ones. “I get to keep this stuff.”

It was her turn to grin. She had spent years challenging herself, aiming to improve herself. It wasn’t enough to be at the level where she was, and it wasn’t good to be complacent. Maybe that’s why the boys were so enthusiastic about the Quidditch sport-it wasn’t just the game; it was the _competition, the contest_ that pitted her skills against his.

“Don’t worry,” she replied confidently.

“You won’t.”

~

At the top of Hogwarts castle, Harry felt his heart dip as he kept his gaze on Joan-who was excitedly wandering all over the roof. She looked like the perfect combination of both cute and sexy at the same time, wearing a tight t-shirt that had the name of a movie that seemed vaguely familiar, and shorts that attenuated her sleek figure nicely.

Her hair barely grazed her neck-but as she threw it back it seemed to bathe beautifully in the sunlight. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

“Um,” started Harry nervously. “So…what do you think?”

Joan blinked. “About?”

…Maybe it wasn’t as fairly obvious as he had thought.

“Oh right!” exclaimed Joan. “Yeah, what an amazing view!”

“Really?”

“…no, I see this stuff all the time. I ride a _dragon_ to get around.”

Harry felt a little pang of disappointment, and a little stupid. He should have thought about that.

“I’m kidding!” she laughed, mock fanning him with her lustrous lashes. “Relax, Harry.”  She stretched, bathing herself in the sunlight once again, which he couldn’t help did nice things for her shirt.

“It won’t go any higher the more you look, you know.”

Harry blinked and shook his head furiously, desperately willing the redness on his face to go down. Joan laughed in mirth and Harry silently cursed for giving into his raging teenage hormones.

“S-Sorry!” He stuttered, trying to put as much distance as he could between them in case he ended up doing something stupid. Again.

This was embarrassing. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would bring someone up to his favorite place in all of Hogwarts, much less a girl. They were currently perched atop the roof of the Astronomy tower, the highest tower in Hogwarts.

Suddenly he felt a sudden hand clap his shoulder and grip it, before being spun around gently to meet smug red eyes dead on. Joan chuckled softly, drawing back her hand to cross her arms over her chest.

“Hey, no big deal,” she shrugged.

“Anyway, about yesterday, I would like to apologize on Professor Snape’s behalf. I know he’s difficult, especially on you, Harry, for some strange reason, but he’s actually a really good person.”

Harry found himself faltering from that statement alone. Somehow, he found that particular piece of information extremely and painfully hard to digest.

Joan took a few steps forward towards the edge of the roof and settled herself down, with one leg dangling over the edge and the other propped up against her chest. She stared out at the morning horizon, relishing in the soft golden glow of the sun that doted whatever it touched. She gave a soft sigh.

“I know you must find that quite hard to believe,” she continued. “But Professor Snape, despite his apparent lack of emotion and sardonic disposition, does actually have a heart of gold. “

Harry found himself approaching his companion to take a seat next to her, ears perked intently to hear what she had to say. For her to speak so highly and respectfully about the Potions Master must mean that there might indeed be more than he would ever let on to the public eye.

“Harry, can I tell you something?”

“Y-Yeah, anything!” He licked his lips that had suddenly gone dry.

“Professor Snape isn’t my father. I have no idea who my real parents are.”

Silence draped over them like a thick quilt on winter’s morning, as Harry furrowed his brows, trying to process what he just heard.

“So, you’re… an orphan?”

“Sort of, I guess… Severus told me that on the night of 31 October 1981, he found me hidden amongst a pile of rubble in Godric’s Hollow. I was a new-born and because it the night V-V-Voldemort attacked, he was certain my parents weren’t spared.”

Harry nodded, urging her to continue. Joan gave him a wry smile. She had no idea why she was revealing such things to this boy. The only people who knew about this were Severus and Dumbledore. However, as she gazed into kind, warm green eyes, she knew it was a safe choice.

“Severus raised me and took me in as his own. Apparently, my parents were either both Muggles or Muggle-borns, because I was a confirmed Muggle-born. Severus had been the one to expose me to the world of magic and taught me everything he knew, for which I am grateful. However, because my magic took a much longer time to mature, he had home-schooled me until I was ready in his eyes, to attend a proper learning institution for wizards.”

“Whether it was pity or guilty conscience that compelled him to take me as his daughter that night, I don’t care. Although his up bringing was strict and harsh, I knew and I know he loves me. At least, I believe he does. He did a lot for me- that’s why I get really upset if anyone insults or hurts him in any way. And I know this is going to sound terribly corny, but he’s not just my father; he’s… he’s my savior.”

Joan finished and spared a glance at Harry from the corner of her eye who seemed to be in deep thought.

“H-Harry?”

Snapping out of it, the Boy Who Lived turned to stare blankly at Joan, before his gaze softened. He shifted to sit closer to the girl until the sides of their bodies touched. He then leaned to rest his head atop Joan’s, who had unconsciously leaned to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Joan, can I tell you something?”

“Y-Yeah, anything.”

“I used to have fantasies of bringing Cho Chang –she’s a Seeker from Ravenclaw by the way- up here on a starry night, where we would get all romantic and mushy and stuff.”

Joan snorted, amused.

“Well then, I guess we all have our own little secrets.”

“Guess so… Promise you won’t tell mine if I don’t tell yours?”

“Mm… deal.”

A contented silence drifted in the air as a playful morning zephyr dancing through their hair, the two simply enjoying each other’s company. It was then that Joan stopped worrying over the events of yesterday. After all, things were so much simpler and better when left to the flow of the moment.

It was Harry that broke the silence. He chuckled.

“You know… I kinda want my glasses back.”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute.”

~

“Concentrate, Granger!” yelled Lucas impatiently.

“I am!” she fired back, sounding highly aggravated.

“Well concentrate harder!”

It had been almost fifteen minutes, but she still hadn’t managed to take her things back from him through the Summoning Charm. Each time she messed up, he would throw out a helpful tip that improved her spell a bit, like the visualizing of the object flying towards her. The bag had jumped towards her twice now, but it still hadn’t reached her.

“Look,” he groaned, slouching over the table. “Do you want these things or not?”

“I do!”

“Prove it! And I’m not talking about how you want to get back at me, or how upset you are that I’m doing this-you need to _focus on what you want most_ , and the Summoning Charm will summon it by name.”

His shrug was boyish, but looked tired. “Just do it, will you?”

Hermione sighed. She closed her eyes and visualized the items, exactly as they were. She thought about how happy she had been when she had first gotten her bag in Diagon Alley, and found so much more space inside it than she could see. She thought about the hair band, which helped keep her hair from becoming even more bushy and unkempt than she already felt it was.

_Focus on what I want._

_“Accio-“_

And in three continuous spells, Lucas found himself empty handed-though certainly not looking unpleased about it. He shot her a look, which held such a mixture of relief and mock impatience, and she couldn’t help it.

“You really did it,” he was muttering incredulously. “It took me at least three days, you’re really something else…”

“Oh…wow,” she whispered.

Just like that, her anger ebbed away and dissipated. It wasn’t just the elation she felt from getting the spell right-but that no teacher had taught her so well in such a short time.

“Oh WOW!”

To his complete shock, she threw her arms around him and tackled him against the table, her voice bursting with happiness.

“I did it!”

Lucas flushed-she was really soft-and his face buried in her sweet smelling hair didn’t make him feel any more uncomfortable. If she held on any longer he was going to go crazy. She seemed to notice this too, because she let go rather abruptly, her face rather red as well.

“I-I mean, thank you,” she said finally, in a pacifying sort of voice.

“Anytime.” He gave her a small expression of reassurance, despite still looking slightly uncomfortable-and internally she felt relieved.

“So…what were you doing in the library for so long, anyway?”

Lucas smiled, which caught her by surprise. He had a nice smile, and come to think of it, really brilliant eyes which glowed when he did. It actually made him look surprisingly good.

“I fell asleep in here yesterday night.”

“Seriously?”

“Under the table, I was taking a break from all that…” For a moment, he seemed to struggle with how he wanted to say it, and she piped in.

“Reading?”

“Reading,” he agreed, and at that moment the smile faded. Hermione twitched internally-was she _disappointed?_   “It’s…” he struggled, “a lot more challenging than I thought-I mean, you know, studying…”

“Ah, yeah…of course.” Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that. “I do understand, you know.” She put her hand on his shoulder, letting out a small awkward laugh at his stunned reaction to the physical contact. “You really helped me out today, honestly.”

“It was nothing,” he mumbled, almost shyly.

“Yeah, um-“ she lowered her gaze slightly towards the floor as she held her hands to her book, he _did_ smell nice-“Listen, I know you don’t usually eat with anyone-“

“I’d really don’t think-“

“It would be…nice, if you sat with us for breakfast,” she offered. “You don’t sit with anyone, and-“

“That’s really not your concern,” murmured Lucas seriously, somewhat coldly.

Hermione flinched. The walls were back up, the perpetual defensive posture and the eyes, which clearly said not to mess with him were back like they had never left, just like that.

“Lucas,” and she held back a chuckle at the stunned way he had reacted to her saying his name so she could sound equally serious. “I’m not trying to say anything. I’m not being overly concerned. It’s just…we’re friends, right?”

He blinked, and stood still for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” To her astonishment, he patted her on the head.

“Later, Granger,” he said with a grin, as he made for the door. “Heh, that kind of rhymes…”

“Idiot!” she called after him, but the smile never left her lips. When he was happy-it was just infectious. He should smile more often, it made him look better-

She caught herself in mid-thought. It was silly, what she was thinking. What _was_ she thinking? _Well, it’s nice to make a new friend_ , she decided, feeling rather content.

It really was. She smiled, packing her books into her bags. Breakfast after learning a tough spell sounded really good-then she remembered that the house elves slaved over the meal she would be eating, and promptly stopped thinking about it. She had to do something. Maybe the library would have answers-petitions, elf rights, and the like?

Just as she was about to leave the library, she noticed a few similar books stuffed at the corner of a shelf. Madam Pince would be furious-it had to be Lucas. She sighed, pulling them out of the shelf. The boy really needed to learn some basic manners…

_Wait-_

No, it couldn’t have been Lucas reading these books, she decided. Not when he had just taught her a Grade 4 Summoning Charm, which was to be perfected at the end of the year.

Because someone that good at magic wouldn’t be reading children’s books.

Right?

~

Lucas climbed out of the Hufflepuff House Barrel, readjusting his hair, frustrated. If there were a fire in the Common Room someday, every single Hufflepuff would be dead-unless they could climb out barrels at the speed of 2m/s, which would be ridiculously fast even for walking speed during a fire drill…

The Fat Friar gave him a snide glare as he floated by, which really bothered him for some reason. Maybe he had somewhat expected things to be different after successfully making his first friend in school, but that was just naive thinking after all.

He sighed, putting it out of his mind as he checked his robes for his wand, despite the familiar weight of it against his body. Aberforth may have taught him self-defense, but any decent wizard with a wand would trounce him in a moment. And if there was anything else that Aberforth had _really_ taught him-it was to be paranoid.

 _You can't trust the Ministry. You can't trust anyone in your school._  

He realized with some bitterness, that y _ou couldn't even trust your parents._

Still, Hermione Granger proved to be a useful ally to have for as long as he was staying in this school. From what he had gathered from their little teaching session, she was resourceful, determined, and...

_Kinda touchy._

He briefly the vivid memory of her soft, warm body pressing against his hard one-the smell of her breath like fresh shampoo from showering in the morning, small hands around his neck...and shook his head. He was thinking way too much about it. She was just a girl. 

_She's smart. And pretty. And equally driven...what else can you ask for in a girl?_

_Are you crazy? You're probably going to be a criminal after graduation. There's no time for this kind of nonsense._

_…are you serious? I'm a GUY._

This internal monologue went on for quite a while in Lucas' head, as he stumbled down the corridors towards the Great Hall, occasionally tripping over something and picking himself up hurriedly. 

"You really need help," said Lucas exasperatedly to himself, after he had convinced his brain that his hormones were getting in the way of his thinking. 

"You don't say, you little git."

Time slowed down to a stop for Lucas as his instincts kicked in. _Damn._ He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not even noticed how empty this particular corridor passing by the 3rd floor toilets had been-a corridor that students generally went around after some serious incident some years back. 

One of the things that Aberforth had taught him when the old man had first taken him under his wing-at ten years old no less-was that a gang of bullies loved a dramatic entrance. It usually involved a verbal quip-which pinpointed the direction of the surprise attack...

...and the subsequent attack. 

Lucas ducked, grabbing the arm that had shot out from behind him and tossing the boy over. If the guy had used his wand instead of his fist, Lucas would have been a goner. But that was just another piece of luck for him, that Durmstrang students were big fans of Muggle dueling. 

And he knew these particular Durmstrang students.

"Martin," he glanced down coldly at the student whose arm was still bent in an awkward position. Despite looking almost twice Lucas' size, the bigger boy looked on the brink of screaming in pain. "Derek. Nigel. I'm surprised you boys are still around."

The sixth year Durmstrang students looked furious and indignant. Nigel opened his mouth to yell, but Lucas yanked on Martin's arm a little tighter, earning a squeak of pain. 

"Uh uh," said Lucas sadistically, his voiced laced with metal. "Any wands out, and I break his arm off. And you _know_ I'll do it _._ "

"Okay!" surrendered Derek, his hands raised. The boy was small and squeaky, unlike his peers. "We'll let you off the hook, alright? Just let him go!"

"You'll _let me off the hook?"_ Lucas could feel heat rise to his forehead, the blood rush to his ears. He was barely in control of himself now. Under him, Martin winced from the added strain on his arm. "You morons got me expelled!" 

"You put my friends in the hospital!" fired back Derek, a mixture of sniffing and yelling. "Come on!" 

For a moment Lucas wanted to blast Derek's head off, because really, whose fault was it that he had to put them in St Mungos? But then he remembered two people in the same place-two people so important to him that he would have gladly died over having them in the catatonic state they were in now...

"Final warning. Leave me alone." Lucas pushed Martin off, and the boy collapsed to the floor, holding on to his arm like it would break any time. 

 "You little psycho!" screeched Martin, inching away. "You freak!" His friends helped him up, looking equally furious.

Lucas ignored him, starting to walk off. 

"You're a dead man!" Martin got to his feet, taking out his wand. "We're gonna hurt you so hard it'll hurt your whole family-"

Something snapped inside Lucas, and all went white.

\----

Joan had never been one for walking away from danger. The tomboyish but pretty girl strutted down the third floor corridor like she owned it, a big smile on her face. Not only would she be left completely alone, but she would beat the crowd down to the Great Hall, which meant a heavier breakfast and less hassle! The thought of it made her smile even more. 

There was a lot to be happy about, she decided. She fought a rising blush to her cheeks, her thoughts having momentarily strayed to the two cute boys who were such polar opposites of each other, but that she loved being with so much. 

If only they didn't hate each other.

She laughed to herself. It felt somewhat ironic...

Suddenly a spark burst out from around the corner, narrowly shooting past her head and leaving a burn on the wall behind her. She cursed inwardly for daydreaming at such a time (how terribly emasculating!). Any later and the bolt might have seriously hurt her.

Maybe that was why people didn't wander down these corridors since the 'incident' a few years back. Bad mojo.

Or some overzealous prank, perhaps? The Weasley twins were always coming up with new things-funny, but there was no reason it wouldn't be potentially dangerous. With a degree of cautiousness, she peered around the corner.

The sight horrified her.

A Hufflepuff student had 3 Durmstrang students in his captivity. But that wasn't the shocking part-it was that they were being levitated and restrained in the air by what appeared to be electric tendrils emanating from his wand. These tendrils were obviously causing the boys a great deal of pain, because they were screaming and crying, yet their voices made no sound.

 _Silencio,_ she realized. _And some kind of...Dark magic?_

Whatever it was, Joan Severus Snape had never been just a 'spectator.' People were getting hurt, and she had to step up. 

"Expelliarmus!" she cried out, whipping out her wand. The boy had been so focused on his torture that he never even realized she had been there-until the wand flew out from his hand. He looked rather taken aback-furious even, until he saw her.

"Hey, you're that ridiculously hot girl," he said casually. He paused and blushed somewhat, as if realizing he had just said that out loud. "Uh. Thanks for before, by the way."

Joan blinked. Did he just say that out loud? In fact, was he flirting with her right after she had stopped him from torturing foreign students in front of her? 

"Look, I know how this looks like, but..."

"You're crazy," she whispered. Her wand was kept trained on him, shaking somewhat. "Keep back."

"Okay. I'll admit this looks bad. And I did go a little too far..."

"Are you serious?!" she screamed. "You could have really hurt someone! You could have killed them!"

"You're not listening," said the boy, his friendly tone completely gone. "Just give me back my wand. I can explain all of this."

"Stay back."

"Look, I just wanted to kick some sense into them for a while, they tried to-"

"STAY BACK!" 

Her screech had been so shrill and so overwhelmed with emotion that the boy finally stepped back, having gotten the message. Her voice echoed down the empty corridor. Amidst the confusion, the Durmstrang boys had already left. Despite the irked feeling she felt from the boys having just left her alone with this guy-she also felt relief. They were safe now. 

Safe from him.

"This," she breathed. "Is what's going to happen."

"I'm going to hold on to this..." she cringed at the thought of holding a wand that had just seriously hurt people so much, and shoved it hurriedly in her robes. "For a while. You want to explain, fine. I don't know how you possibly can, but I'll let you try anyway. You're going to meet me in front of the Slytherin Common Room, where there'll be _witnesses."_

"And if I don't like your explanation, I'm going straight to the Headmaster with what just happened. Do you understand?"

The boy was almost shaking with rage at this point, his fist clenched. But Joan was unfazed. 

"Do you _understand?"_

"Good. You're going to wait here ten minutes before going down for breakfast. You're not going to look at me, or talk to me. Now sit."

As she walked off while the boy reluctantly sat on the floor, Joan realized she had never been so angry in her life. 

~

As that morning was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. Harry, Ron and Hermione, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than they usually did at weekends.

When they went down into the Entrance Hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the centre of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin gold line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

“You lot sure got up early this morning,” yawned Ron. “Did something happen to you two? I couldn’t find either of you in the Common room.”

At this, both Harry and Hermione blushed and started stammering from recalling the events of just a few hours ago.

“We were-ah-“

“I was in the library-“

“Quidditch, you know, just because there isn’t a season doesn’t mean-“

“OWLs next year, it’s really important-“

“N-nothing happened,” ended Harry hastily.

“Nothing happened,” agreed Hermione.

At this, the both of them exchanged a somewhat horrified look of realization. Something _different_ had clearly happened to the other.

But Ron was already distracted by the third year Gryffindor, who had been sitting near the Goblet for some time.

“Anyone put their name in yet?” he asked eagerly.

“All the Durmstrang lot,” she replied. “But I haven’t seen anyone from Hogwarts yet.”

After they had a good laugh at Fred and George being escorted to the hospital wing, the Golden Trio headed for the Great Hall. They sat down briefly, considering the contenders for the Goblet of Fire. For a moment, Harry and Hermione forgot what had transpired a few moments ago, and indulged the topic-until Harry remembered who he had invited to breakfast that morning.

“Uh, guys. This is a little last minute, but I sort of invited-“

“Listen!” hissed Hermione.

People were cheering out in the Entrance Hall. They all swiveled around in their seats as Angelina Johnson came into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. She had just placed her name in the Goblet of Fire. Poor Harry struggled to get a word in as his friends surrounded Angelina, asking her questions about the Goblet and how she felt about it.

“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione. “I’ve just realized-I haven’t asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W yet! Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?”

Before they could answer, she shot off anyway.

“Sorry mate,” said Ron, chewing happily on his Corn Flakes. “You were saying?”

“I invited Joan over here for breakfast,” said Harry. “She’s still new and she doesn’t have many friends yet, so I thought it’d be a good idea.”

“Sounds good.”

At that moment, as if to contradict his statement on purpose, Joan bounced over, tugging Malfoy behind her. Ron promptly choked on his cereal.

She only grinned at the dumbstruck Gryffindors.

“Hey guys!”

~

Hermione dashed down the staircase, bumping into Lucas and scattering her badges all over the floor.

“Oh no!”

“Watch it!”

“Sorry…hey!” She waved, and the frown on the boy’s face softened. “Breakfast is going to be over in a while, why aren’t you down yet?”

“Stuff,” mumbled Lucas, looking rather unhappy as he helped pick up the badges and place them into her container. He looked so downcast that she almost felt like coddling him. Almost.

“Sit with us,” she said, resisting the urge to pat his head as his sad puppy dog eyes studied the ground. “I could use the company anyway. Okay? Go on.”

“Don’t you already have-“ interjected the Hufflepuff, but she grabbed him by the arm already. It felt unusual-more daring than she normally would have been, but she already felt extraordinarily comfortable with him.

“It’s not a request!” she yelled.

Hermione grinned to herself. A delightful breakfast with friends, no classes and more members for S.P.E.W…

What could possibly go wrong?

~

“Wha-What’s _Malfoy_ doing here?!” shouted Ron, aghast. His eyes were wide and his skin had gone quite pale as if he’d seen, well, a ghost.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the red head. He had promised Joan, albeit reluctantly, that he’d _try_ to get along with the Goof- _Golden Trio,_ at least on more civilized terms as long as it didn’t involved getting too friendly with them. His pride could only stretch that much after all. He crossed his arms, guarded.

“For your information, Weasel- he grimaced when Joan nudged him in the ribs- _Weasley,_ ” he corrected.

“I study here.”

Draco was rewarded with a sputtering Ron, whose face seemed to have bypassed several shades of Red. The poor boy looked so conflicted that Draco could have sworn he would’ve passed out if not for the fact that they were in public and he was very much, not dreaming.

Noticing his best friend’s obvious state of distress, Harry immediately helped Ron to the bench of the Gryffindor table. Emerald green eyes eyed the read head in concern.

“You alright?”

When Ron gave Harry a stiff and silent nod, the boy who lived turned to face the two Slytherins. Harry glared at the blonde as he made to stand by Joan’s side, grabbing her wrist.

“What are you playing at, _Malfoy_?” He tugged at Joan’s wrist, pulling her towards him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, _Potter.”_ Draco sneered, tugging at Joan’s other wrist.

“WHOO!! TOGETHERNESS!!” Joan suddenly exploded, wrenching her wrists free to grab two boys around each of their necks, bringing their heads closer together.

Colorful expletives carried through the air as the two rivals began to choke and sputter, gasping for breath as they struggled violently from the girl’s insanely strong hold. This was how Hermione and Lucas found them once they entered the Great Hall and to say they were flabbergasted was an under statement.

The two looked at each other for a brief second, before rushing over.

“Harry! What’s going on!”

Distracted by Hermione’s intrusion, Joan loosened her grip on her two captives, causing them to pull away successfully. The raven-haired girl grinned eagerly, ignoring the occasional “bloody hell” and “good Merlin” next to her.

“’Mione!” She called happily, but the smile faded immediately when her gaze met the piercing ones of Lucas.

His cold silver eyes narrowed angrily at her, obviously not forgetting their little encounter in the hallway. Joan returned the glare, before her expression immediately shifted into one of false intrigue.

“’Mione, who’s your friend?”

All eyes in the group directed to the awkward pair. Hermione was biting her lip, a nervous frown on her face as she pondered over a decent explanation. Lucas on the other hand, was doing his best to avoid any form of eye contact, suddenly finding everything in the Great Hall rather interesting compared to his schoolmates.

“Bloody hell, Hermione! That’s the crazy bloke from Hufflepuff! The one who I’m _sure_ you shouldn’t be associating with!” Ron exclaimed, his pitch wavering as he was caught between shock and fear.

This was ludicrous; utterly insane! Had the world gone bonkers? First, Malfoy of all people decide to conveniently pop by and spoke to them decently. And now, one of his best friends decided to drag along the kid from Durmstrang along for the ride. This was turning out to be one whacky morning.

Lucas didn’t look too pleased with that comment and was about to give the Weasley a piece of his mind, when Hermione beat him to it.

“Ron! You shouldn’t say that about someone when they’re actually standing right in front of you! Besides, you don’t know him! I’ve spoken to him quite a bit actually, and he’s not that bad! In fact, the stories people come out about Lucas are nothing but distasteful exaggerations!”

“Geez! Are you listening to yourself, Hermione!? You’re defending _him_ over _me!_ You barely even know this bloke!”

A flash of emotion danced across Lucas’ eyes as he watched the brunette lecture Ron about his insensitivity. Saying he was touched was one thing, but feeling a small sense of pride was another. The fact that this girl chose him over a close friend was really something.

Lucas chanced a glance at Joan, who had a contemplative expression deep-set on her face. He winced slightly. Another girl who was really something, was this one right here. One moment, she was a deadly force out to get him, and the next; she was a sweet and friendly peony fluttering in her own world. He had no idea what she was planning, but he didn’t like that look on her face; not at all.

As Ron and Hermione continued to bicker, Lucas was highly tempted to pull the feisty brunette aside but was stopped by a warm, boyish voice to his left.

“It’s alright, Lucas. Don’t bother about those two – they fight all the time. They’ll work things out and get over it eventually. Sorry for Ron’s comment earlier. He does have quite the temper and sometimes his mouth opens before his brain tells him not to.”

The boy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes hidden behind glasses offered the surprised Hufflepuff his hand.

“I’m Harry Potter by the way. It’s nice to finally talk to you in person. I know we pretty much got on the wrong foot on the first day, but any friend of Hermione’s is a friend of mine.”

Harry left his hand extended in mid-air, patiently waiting for the stoic boy to accept his offer of friendship. He felt like a prey imprisoned by its predator as silver eyes scrutinized his hand in utmost suspicion. After what felt like an eternity, Lucas gave a casual shrug and took the shorter boy’s hand, shaking it.

“Thanks. The name’s Lucas.” He replied gruffly.

“WHOOOO!!! MORE TOGETHERNESS!!!”

Everyone jumped in surprise to face Joan who had clearly gone off her rocker. They actually sort of pitied Malfoy who was standing the closest to her, his finger jabbed in his left ear and expression disturbed, his ears ringing.

“Joan, could you… not be so loud…?” He hissed at the grinning female.

“But-but… EVERYONE’S FRIENDS NOW!! WE HAVE DONE WELL TODAY.”

Draco felt a vein in his head twitch and was about to comment on her inappropriate display of unfeminine enthusiasm, when a familiar deep and calm voice interrupted him.

“Draco, why in Salazar’s name are you at the Gryffindor table?”

The blonde sighed tiredly. He was starting to think it was a mistake agreeing to Joan’s deal.

“Hey, Blaise…” He greeted his best friend. And was interrupted again. By another explosion of questions.

“What the- another one?!”

“Why is Blaise Zabini here too?!”

“Harry, did you invite the entire Slytherin house for breakfast?!”

“Yeah, and Professor Snape will be joining us too- OF COURSE NOT!!”

“Wait, what now? What’s wrong with that guy?”

“Lucas, the question is, what’s NOT wrong about that guy?”

“Malfoy’s up to something! I know it!”

Blaise watched the four bicker and throw about their heated discussions with a slightly stunned expression on his face (or as stunned as Blaise could manage). He turned to look at his fellow housemate but upon noticing the girl with red twinkling eyes, he already knew the answer to his previous question.

He nodded in greeting.

“Joan.”

“Blaise.” She returned the greeting, smirking ever so slightly.

“We have yet to conclude yesterday’s debate on tea…”

“Humph. As I stand, Darjeeling is quite the victor in this pointless discussion. Everyone knows that the crisp aroma and the sinful bitterness is nothing but exquisite.” He stuck his head up proudly.

“Well, you know what they say, Blaise. A calm mind and a soothing soul can only be achieved through the wonders of Chamomile. I think I rather pleasant dreams than bitter nightmares, don’t you?”

Blaise smirked.

“Hm. Quite.”

Ok. Was Draco the only one who felt lost here?

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Hermione suddenly piped in.

Six pairs of eyes turned to regard her questionably as she dug into her robes pocket. The brunette held out a single round badge with the words “S.P.E.W” on it and was beaming brightly, totally ignoring the groans from Ron and Harry.

While Draco and Blaise looked bored and disinterested, Joan and Lucas has leant closer to inspect the queer accessory. Lucas remembered this badge being one of the many he helped the girl pick up earlier. He suddenly wondered why he hadn’t asked her about them earlier.

“… Spew?” Lucas asked, unimpressed.

Joan on the other hand, was staring at the words so intently that she was starting to go cross-eyed.

“Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!” Hermione announced proudly.

“It’s to increase awareness of the gross injustice done to house-elves. Wizards do not appreciate their efforts and painstaking devotion to their assigned families and duties. With S.P.E.W, we hope to put an end to this slavery and realize the cruelty they’re exposed to every day!”

She then proceeded to pin the badges on the two. Lucas merely stared down at his with a look that appeared to say “so-what-do-I-do-with-this-now”, while Joan continued to stare at hers in awe, wanting to know more and what she could do to support S.P.E.W.

“Professor Snape never got us a house-elf because I would never allow him to! Those poor creatures do not deserve such treatment… They deserve to be free! They deserve equal rights!”

And with a sudden burst of inspiration, Joan grabbed two more badges from a thoroughly pleased Hermione and pinned them on a surprised Draco and Blaise.

“TAKE IT. TAKE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTT.”

“Joan! Remove this now and I’ll consider not casting a nasty jinx on you later!” Draco yelled, trying in vain to remove the ugly, bright green badge, only to have his hands swatted away after every attempt.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were having a field day snickering at the treatment Malfoy was currently subjected to. It was amusing to see the normally arrogant and cold Slytherin prince, reduced to a harping boy with a temper tantrum.

Blaise stared down at his badge, before clearing his throat. He fixed Joan with a pointed stare.

“Joan, there is absolutely no way I’m going to support this ridiculous movement. You are aware of a house-elf’s purpose, are you not?”

When all he received was silence from the raven-head, he took it upon himself to explain.

“A house-elf is bonded to a wizarding family and they are to serve and take care of their family’s every needs, answering to their beck and call. House-elves live to serve. They were born to do just that. Giving them freedom and denying them their purpose, will only cause them great suffering.”

Draco smirked at the defeated look Granger had. He noticed the Hufflepuff boy try to comfort her silently by holding onto his badge with pride. Whatever those bumbling Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs did were none of his concern.

Before he and Blaise could remove their badges however, they paused to stare at Joan who had suddenly moved to stand directly in front of them. Her hands were clasped together and her eyes were wide and sparkling with unshed tears.

“Oh, boys! I’m so touched with your deep kindness and passionate sympathy!”

“Wait, what now?” They said at the same time, ignoring Lucas who had shouted something about stealing people’s catch phrases.

“Don’t you see?” Joan gasped dramatically.

“By denying your support of S.P.E.W, you are giving the house-elves happiness and maintaining their purpose in life! You are doing a most brave and chivalrous deed! By continuing to treat them cruelly, you show them a greater kindness than the freedom they despise! So thoughtful! So terribly kind! YES! TAKE THEM OFF! TAKE THE BADGES OFF AND SHOW THE WORLD HOW MUCH YOU LOVE HOUSE-ELVES!”

“Er… “ Hermione began, not knowing what to make of the sudden twist in conversation.

Harry, Ron and Lucas quietly turned to start on their cereal. Who was that girl? They didn’t know. Nope. There’s no way they knew her. How could they? Yeah.

Harry actually felt sorry for Malfoy at this point.

Draco and Blaise shared a disturbed look. They stared down at their badges again, before grabbing their crazy friend’s hands, promptly dragging her off to the Slytherin table.

“It’s ok, Joan. We’ll keep the badges.”

“Yeah. Hooray for S.P.E.W.”

~

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

After what felt like an eternity, the golden plates on the tables cleared to its original spotless state and excited chatter soon filled the Great Hall. All students were eager to know the appointed champions for the tournament. The buzzing died down as soon as Dumbledore rose and moved to stand before the Goblet of Fire.

“Everyone!” The elderly Headmaster began.

“I’m sure all of you are eager to know who our 3 champions will be! Now, let me emphasize once again, the dangers of the tasks imposed by this tournament. One must utilize wit, knowledge, skill and adaptability to survive three grueling tasks. Remember, once selected, there’s no turning back.”

At the front of the hall where the professors sat, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff looked on impatiently, mentally urging Dumbledore to hurry with the proceedings. They weren’t the only ones. Alastor Moody had a strange glint in his eye as he looked almost restless, while Flitwick looked nervous and jittery. The only one who seemed calm about the whole ordeal were Mcgonagall, Hagrid, and Snape, the later scanning the Great Hall to rest his gaze on his daughter who was seated comfortably between Malfoy and Zabini.

As long as she stayed clear from Potter, all was fine. He retuned his attention back to Dumbledore.

“Once your name has been called, please step forward.”

The flames of the Great Hall’s candles died as the Goblet’s fire turned from a soothing blue to that of a majestic red. Suddenly a tiny piece of parchment shot out from within and Dumbledore caught and unfolded it. The fire turned back to its previous blue.

“Viktor Krum!”

Loud cheers resonated from the Durmstrang students as their chosen champion made his way towards Dumbledore’s side. Karkaroff looked on proudly at his best student.

The boy was of an extremely well built and tall stature, with a buzz cut and a hardened expression set on his face. Everything about him radiated confidence and that was enough to have Ron sighing like a lovesick fangirl.

“Blimey… It’s Viktor Krum!”

Lucas gave Ron a perturbed look.

“Look, Ron, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s not all that fantastic-“

“I think he’ll win the tournament, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry gave his best friend the best patronizing look he could muster, while Lucas preoccupied himself with banging his head on the table.

“Next!”

Another piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet into Dumbledore’s hands.

“Fleur Delacour!”

Applause and thrilled squeals carried Beauxbatons’ champion forward to the front of the hall. The maiden was as graceful as she was lovely, with long, silky blonde hair tied neatly into a delicate ponytail, and crystal blue eyes. She exuded elegance and refined poise that definitely made Madame Maxime proud.

Lucas’ eyes widened and couldn’t help the quiet “Woah” that escaped his lips. Opposite him, Hermione gave him a questioning stare, causing him to suddenly find the back of Ron’s head very interesting.

“And our final champion… Cedric Diggory!”

The Hufflepuff prefect received the loudest cheers as the confident yet humble blonde quickly high-fived his housemates before making his way to the front of the Great Hall. All of Hogwarts gazed on in pride at their chosen champion, the applause overwhelming. Being the Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Cedric was quite the Mr. Popularity, what with his large circle of friends and fans encouraging and cheering him on.

Even Lucas couldn’t help but clap for him in his own humble way. Cedric was the only one in Hufflepuff that treated him decently and fairly, even offering him help on his first day. Surely there would be no harm in supporting him now, would it?

Opposite him next to Hermione, Harry had joined in the cheering too, albeit too enthusiastically. He had no idea what sort of relationship the two had, but he figured it must have been one of substantial respect.

“These are our champions. Everyone, please show them your support, because they will need all they can get when they fight for the winner in the Tri-Wizard-“

Suddenly, the fire of the Goblet turned red once more, the flames more violent and angry than before as it danced and thrashed about. The fire roared and the Great Hall burst into an enormous wave of chatter, as out from the flames shot out another piece of parchment, this one slightly bigger than the previous three.

With shaky hands and bated breath, Dumbledore unfolded the parchment. When he saw the words written on the brown surface, he gasped loudly, eyes taking on a look of pure horror.

“H-Harry Potter & Joan Snape…” he mumbled quietly, but it was loud enough for those in the front to hear.

Behind him, Professor Snape rose suddenly as he approached to stand next to the Headmaster. He snatched the little note and read the words many times over, shock, worry, anger, concern, and horror written all over his face.

The professors looked apprehensive and confused.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, because on the tiny piece of parchment had the words written neatly:

 

Harry Potter

&

Joan Snape

 

“ ** _HARRY POTTER!! JOAN SNAPE!!”_**

Harry continued to sit at his spot, body having gone rigid with shock and fear. His eyes took on a haunted look as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Opposite him, Ron and Lucas were staring at him in complete astonishment, the earlier looking torn between surprise and betrayal, while the later simply at a loss of what to say.

Harry looked apprehensively at his housemates who all regarded him with a look of displeasure, disappointment, and disbelief. He allowed his gaze to travel across the rest of the tables and saw that Gryffindor wasn’t the only one unsatisfied with the new information.

While Harry was still desperately working out the reasons behind his name being in the goblet, much less with Joan’s, he felt hands grab him at his arm rather tightly.

“Oh, for goodness sake Harry!”

Hermione hoisted him up to a standing position but remained seated. Harry swallowed nervously and when his eyes landed on the Slytherin table, he saw Blaise Zabini do the exact thing Hermione did, with Joan. And like Ron, Malfoy had the exact same expression on his face, except he seemed more worried than betrayed.

Joan looked thoroughly shaken and confused, her skin having gone deathly pale and was quivering with every slight movement she made. Their eyes met, green against red, before they stepped out from behind their benches and quietly shuffled their way over to the front of the Great Hall.

Harry stood next to Joan who looked like she was fighting back tears. The poor girl looked so terrified and confused and she had every reason to. She couldn’t even find the courage to look up at Professor Snape, keeping her eyes downcast. Harry knew what she was probably thinking.

_As if Hogwarts didn’t hate me enough._

This year, there was silence amongst the audience of the Tri-Wizard tournament.

As they were all made to move to a secluded room in the Great Hall, and as Harry’s hand crept to lace his fingers through Joan’s, he couldn’t help but think the same thing.

 

~

 

Hermione sat rooted in her seat, almost oblivious to the ongoing chaos around her. One could have confused her for a victim of a Petrification spell, with the level of focus in which she was focused and unmoving.

The thought crossed her mind briefly, before she mentally berated herself for ever doubting her best friend. Harry wouldn’t have done it-no matter how much the boys had joked about it over the past weeks, be it competing in thrilling tasks supported by a crowd of enthusiastic girls, or spending a cool thousand Galleons in prize money…

It just wasn’t Harry. He would never willingly break the rules to put _himself_ in danger for personal glory. He had done so enough times for his _friends_.

She took a look at Ron, who looked dark, almost angry. Betrayed? A mixture of emotions flurried across his face as the ongoing Gryffindors began to realize that the already famous Harry Potter would represent them as a champion in one of the world’s most renowned wizarding tournaments. The cheering was deafening.

“Ron,” she nudged his shoulder, almost nervously. The red headed boy looked completely forlorn. “You know Harry didn’t, there has to be some mistake-“

“I told him to do it,” he muttered in a barely audible tone, almost to himself. “We could be famous, admired, champions… _I_ could be famous, admired…”

“Ron, listen!” said Hermione desperately. “Harry would have told you if he had put his name in the Goblet!”

“Well,” said Ron coldly, shifting in his seat as he stared daggers at Hermione. “How did his name get in then?”

Despite her initial desire to appease Ron’s obvious jealousy, Hermione felt a hint of red surface to her face in anger. “Ron, do you realize what you’re saying! He’s your best friend! B-Besides, he couldn’t have gotten past the Age Line-“

“Whoo hoo!” yelled Fred. “Harry got past the Age Line!”

…And the Gryffindors promptly broke into louder cheers. Ron looked more miserable-Hermione could have slapped her forehead. Or someone else’s.

As Ron turned away, Hermione couldn’t help but notice the passively worried look on Professor Snape’s face. The aloof Potions Master’s face hardly ever betrayed such a large range of emotion, excepting the obvious loathing he held for Harry, which she was used to.

He seemed to realize this too, because he caught her eye, and his features became impassive and stern once again before he left for the other room.

As if he wasn’t worried, confused and angry that his only daughter would be caught up in not only the most renowned tournament Hogwarts would ever hold, but also the most _dangerous._

She turned her attention back to Ron, who had gotten up from the table and stormed past the crowd, heading for the exit. Exasperatedly, she moved to talk some sense into him, but she felt a light hand tugging hers-not forcefully, but in a trying to get her attention way.

“Hermione-“

“Lucas, I really have to talk to-“

“Duck!”

A stunning spell shot past her, and the second one would have hurt her badly had she not ducked in time.

The majority of the Slytherins had finally realized-after getting past the obvious disapproval, repulsion and jealousy-that they had their _own_ champion representing them in the Triwizard Tournament. Their own cheering and jeering had started to bother the other Houses, especially Hufflepuff.

Someone had fired the first spell. Maybe it had meant to be a harmless thing, meant to rile up everyone, like celebratory fireworks. But in any case, another House had taken it as an act of aggression and fired in the general direction of that person. And it hadn’t ended well.

In moments, spells had flooded the room-fortunately; most Hogwarts students had been limited to the basic stunning spells or even weaker curses learnt in class. Hermione whipped out her own wand, casting a large _Protego_ over as much of the Gryffindor table as she could. Unhelpfully, her housemates fired over the barrier, much like throwing snowballs over the fort during a snowball fight.

She felt Lucas drop her hand, which left her feeling oddly empty for a moment. He was ducking and weaving past spells as he made his way across to his table, and making sure that younger students were keeping their head down. She felt a warm smile trail across her face as she maintained her barrier, and ushered the boys behind her to stop fighting. Despite his gruff and unfriendly exterior, he had a good heart.

The teachers had nearly broken up the fight now-Professor Sprout looking furious as she passed by and disarmed a large number of students simultaneously. However, a lone stunning spell from the Gryffindor table soared past her…and directly towards Malfoy.

The blonde’s preservation instinct kicked in, and he ducked…

…Letting the concussive spell strike the girl behind him. Her expression was of shock and pain as she flew several feet through the air, before landing comfortably into Lucas’ arms. Professor Sprout looked visibly impressed with the Hufflepuff boy as he helped her to her feet.

To his shock and horror, it was the same Slytherin girl from before-the one who had been quite determined to kiss him senseless just a few days back.

“Hi again,” she breathed, fluttering her eyelashes.

Lucas groaned. Just then, Professor Sprout reached to him, her face stern but somewhat pleased.

“Mr…”

“Just call me Lucas,” said Lucas with grit teeth, trying to pry Pansy off his arm.

Professor Sprout smiled bemusedly. “Well Lucas, you’ve just earned 10 points for Hufflepuff. 5 more if you escort Miss Parkinson to the hospital wing-I’m sure she could use your assistance.”

“Y-yes, I could use the as, uh, assitance,” cooed Pansy as she let her legs give way somewhat, leaving her clinging on to the poor silver eyed boy even tighter.

“B-but…I don’t…why? Why? I don’t understand…”

Rather reluctantly, Lucas walked out of the Entrance Hall with the girl by his side. Hermione watched him go, letting out a sigh. The chairs around her were empty-no Harry, Ron or Lucas beside her.

Just like that, she was all alone.

 

~

 

Harry sat nervously on a chair in the corner of the room as the Headmasters of the various schools discussed actively-or angrily-about the current unusual circumstances. 5 champions, instead of three-in fact, three were from Hogwarts, which really put the other schools at an obvious disadvantage. He took a brief look at the older champions who stood poised at the other end of the room, each giving off their own charismatic and confident aura.

How did they end up competing? He hadn’t put his name in the Cup…and he was sure Joan hadn’t either. She had been equally confused, and her reaction was as bad, if not worse than his. And how on earth were they supposed to compete? 

It felt like Joan had just read his mind about all his insecurities, because she squeezing his hand a little firmer now, like the harder she squeezed, the more likely it would be that everything would be alright. A small sniff escaped her cute, puffy nose as he caught her confused, but determined gaze once again.

The moment shattered with the sound of the door slamming behind Snape, who entered the room with a darkened look on his face. He shot a glance at the pair, who promptly dropped hands, before engaging the rest of the teachers in angry chatter. Karkaroff, whose fury the others had almost managed to pacify at that point-became upset and stormed out of the room. Harry waited anxiously as he watched the remaining teachers shuffle and mumble...Dumbledore had now handed Snape the slip of parchment, the magical seal bonding him and Joan together-

To the _tournament,_ he corrected quickly.

Then he saw it all in slow motion-the moment when Snape's black eyes narrowed and his face had contorted with a fury previously unmatched by any incidents before. He had seen a milder version during the time that he and Hermione had 'robbed' him of his Order of Merlin...and he had thought that was the worse Snape could be. But if anything could strike you more personally than yourself, it was your family.

As if on reflex, he braced himself.

"POTTER," he screeched manically, lunging at the bespectacled boy. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

He opened his mouth to argue, but Snape had already grabbed him roughly by the robes and was shaking him so violently he felt his body could jump right out of his skin...or his heart. He was completely terrified-the Potions master was completely out of control.

In one swift moment Dumbledore had magically pulled Snape off him, leaving Joan holding on to him protectively. She was breathing hard, her red eyes flashing dangerously. He couldn't tell whether she was more upset or scared.

"Severus, you cannot manhandle any of the students!"

"You're ruining my life!" he screamed hysterically at Harry, struggling from the Headmaster's magical hold. "You're taking everything from me! Everything!"

"Severus," said Dumbledore clearly, a wisp of fire in his eyes. "That's enough!"

The few moments after that passed in a blur. Snape stopped struggling and left the room with McGonagall. Joan ran after him, looking as if she were about to burst into tears. Dumbledore looked sorrowfully at Harry. The boy was sure he had not intended to embarrass the Slytherin Head in any way.

Still, a simmering anger boiled in him, once the fear and shock had passed.

" _I'm_ ruining his life? He's had it out for me since day 1!" growled Harry.

"Harry, leave Professor Snape be." Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "A father will sometimes commit rash action for the sake of their children."

He glanced at the other teachers still left in the room. Madame Maxime had her arms crossed. Reluctantly, Dumbledore turned back to face Harry. 

"Harry. Did you put your name in the cup?"

"I didnt," said Harry, breathing hard-he was both tired and defiant. "I swear I didn't."

"Then I believe you."

The Headmaster of Hogwarts rose to his feet, remarkably composed given the new circumstances. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice to accept it. The Goblet of Fire holds a binding magical contract...they will all compete in the Tournament. Unless anyone has an alternative solution..." He caught disapproving looks on the other teachers faces, but waited. No one spoke.

Mr Crouch cleared his throat, taking out a slate of parchment. "Well, the champions...these are the instructions for the first-"

"Barty," said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired. "Perhaps it would be good to have this meeting during the Weighing of the Wands, especially since Miss Snape is not present. I imagine we will have to change quite a few of the original arrangements-"'

"Y-yes, of course." 

With that, the champions and their respective Heads left. Cedric shrugged as he passed Harry, as if to wish him luck. He could only nod dumbly in return. 

About half an hour later, when Dumbledore had led everyone out, only Harry remained-still sitting on that stool in the corner.

"Harry, I suggest you go to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at him. "I am sure Gryffindor is waiting to celebrate with you, much like I am sure Hufflepuff will be celebrating with Cedric-I'm afraid," he added, halting Harry's preemptive interruption, "that waiting for Miss Snape is not a practical option. She may not come back down to the room at all tonight." 

"Sir-"

"I am sure," and his words had a hint of finality, though not aggressively so. "That your housemates are eagerly waiting for you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

With that, Harry reluctantly left the room. It took him a while to make his way up the marble staircase, his whole self still processing the enormity of what had just happened. He and Ron had spent time so much time joking about it, and he'd fantasized about it...but he'd never really seriously considered entering...

And now he would be facing competition who'd had three more years of magical education than he had, facing dangerous tasks that not only risked his life but were to be performed in front of hundreds of people? The thought of it all was horrifying. 

Despite his anger at Snape for his outburst, it became more and more glaring to him for his reasons...if Harry had really been responsible for Joan entering the Triwizard Tournament, and something had happened to Joan...he recalled with gritting displeasure Hermione's words echoing like a bad rerun- _people have died during the Tournament, postponed due to its high body count..._

Before he'd realized it, he was in front of the Gryffindor Common Room. Knowing his rowdy, enthusiastic House, they would probably greet him blasting and screaming.

He was not disappointed.

 

~

 

The next morning, Harry woke up covered in a Gryffindor banner and badly placed on pyjamas.

What had he been doing last night? Dumbledore had sent him off…

…came back especially late from waiting in the room…

…spent all night during the party trying to convince people that he didn’t put his name in the Goblet…

…tried to find Ron **or** Hermione,  but they were both already in bed…

 _Then_ he remembered frustratedly drinking the Butterbeer that Fred and the others had been shoving into his hands.

And more.

And…

Someone stormed down the stairs, and the noise was like nails hitting him on the head. He groaned. He felt awful. His whole body felt sickening, his headache grew steadily worse the longer he stayed awake and each time he coughed he thought he would puke at any moment.

As he reached for his glasses, his hand brushed against a slip of paper. Only Hermione used paper-he put on his glasses, pushing aside long messy hair around his eyes. 

It read:

_Hi Harry,_

_Angelina told me everything that happened last night. I reckoned you might not be feeling well, so I bought you a stack of toast to eat. It’s with Katie, she should still be in the Common Room. I’m sure you’ve realized that it might not be a good idea to eat in the Great Hall with a hangover._

_I waited for you to wake up, but it got really late. I’ll be in the library with Lucas if you need me._

_Hermione_

Harry grinned; Hermione really knew him well-he was really lucky to have a friend like her. Pity he had overslept-there was so much he wanted to talk about with her and Ron. A quick scan around his room told him that he was the only one left, under than Neville, who had knocked himself out accidentally during the party against the wall and could certainly use the extended rest.

Suddenly he felt a strong exuberance overriding his headache…like a sense of renewed hope. The note itself had been a reassurance that he wasn’t alone in this. He glanced at his watch-his two best friends were probably still eating downstairs-breakfast wasn’t over yet.

Changing into robes, Harry quickly left the Common Room.

 

~

 

One moment Hermione had been excitedly promoting S.P.E.W to the bunch of less than enthusiastic Gryffindors, and the next moment her jaw almost fell open as Harry Potter jogged over to them in the Great Hall, a big cheery smile on his face.

She ignored a ‘thank goodness,’ from Lucas, which obviously came from Harry’s interrupting her pre planned twenty two long minute speech, and shoved his head as she made her way across to her best friend, the look on her face still one of shock. The whole of last night and this morning had been spent trying to cheer Ron up, to convince him that Harry couldn’t possibly have put his name in the Goblet, that Harry needed his support more than anyone else’s right now...she wasn’t sure if her words had fallen through or not, and as far as she knew it was far too early for her to have to find out.

“Hey Hermione,” said Harry with a grin. “I got your note, thanks. …Weren’t you supposed to be in the library?”

“We were, and we covered almost all of the Transfiguration syllabus for this year!” said Hermione happily, before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. “Listen Harry, Ron’s…”

“Yeah, I didn’t see him last night either…”

“He’s not feeling…well, about your whole champion thing. So don’t talk about it in front of him, alright?”

Harry shrugged. “Well the way it was last night, I don’t think it was really confirmed.”

“Really?”

Ron had somehow magically appeared behind him, a curious look on his face as he sipped on his apple juice.

“Well they said I’d get further instructions later, but honestly, I don’t think they’ll let Joan and I compete…we’re too young, and it’s really dangerous…” He grinned at Ron, feeling like he had thoroughly convinced himself. “Thank goodness, right?”

“Yeah, that's great."  
   
Hermione blinked. Ron sounded almost sincere, nothing like the jealous, cynical way he had felt towards Harry when they had talked last night. Maybe taking the night off did him some good-it looked like she had been worried about nothing after all...  
   
But that happy thought was shattered by the screech of the owls flying into the Great Hall. As all the students knew, their post came on Saturday, not Sunday...making the post these owls were carrying particularly urgent. Special.  
   
Naturally, only 3 owls flew into the Great Hall. The first rolled up parchment crashed into the crowd of Beauxbatons girls surround Fleur Delacour. The second landed on the Hufflepuff table where a particularly handsome, grey-eyed boy with brown hair was seated.  
   
And the third...  
   
Hermione almost shut her eyes, dreading what was coming next. As the Gryffindors clamored excitedly around a confused Harry, she could see the look on Ron's face slump gradually, before becoming a mixture of jealousy and anger.

He wasn’t the only one. Upon congratulating Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuffs had noticed the Gryffindor table…and they clearly didn’t appreciate their glory being taken from them. Maybe like the Headmasters of the other school, they had expected a mistake, or for Dumbledore to ban the two underage wizards from competing…

Being attuned to this kind of muttering, Harry had already picked up the hostility radiating from the other table. He gulped down his juice, his eyes a mixture of confusion and defiance. He hadn’t asked for any of this, but much like the situation when the whole school had suspected him of being the heir of Slytherin, he knew what was coming.

Without a second word, the Hufflepuffs abruptly finished their breakfast and left the Hall, glaring at Harry (and Lucas, who evidently wasn’t coming with them) as they went by. Cedric looked like he was trying to tell them to cut it out, but Harry doubted it would take…this wouldn’t be the first time that the ‘famous Harry Potter’ had inadvertently taken someone’s glory…

His thoughts inevitably shifted to wanting to see a familiar face outside his House, who was equally supportive-but more importantly, knew what he was going through…the anxiousness and worry of the competition…

“You’re so obvious, Harry!” teased Hermione, chewing on a blueberry tart as the Gryffindors around him somewhat got back to doing whatever they had been doing. “She hasn’t been here all morning.”

“That’s ridiculous, Hermione,” said Harry so convincingly that he almost believed it himself, like he hadn’t felt butterflies in his stomach watching a sunrise with the attractive Slytherin girl. “I just really need to talk to her about last night, see how’s she’s feeling…”

And he told the two of them about the events of last night, with the other school’s reactions, seeing Mr. Crouch and Bagman again…ending off with Snape’s very distinct emotional reaction and Joan going off after him, teary eyed. The two sat stunned for a while, and a relieved Hermione noticed Ron had briefly put his jealousy out of his mind.

 

~

 

Meanwhile, Lucas sat awkwardly at the other end of the Gryffindor table with the other Gryffindors, after being shooed away by Hermione. It was quite expected of course, because he wasn’t exactly Harry’s close friend. But he couldn’t help but notice the Gryffindors gradually edging closer and closer to him as he attempted to look like he was doing something and not just waiting for Hermione to be done.

There was something to be said about Gryffindor bravery, he decided, because he had been made painfully aware that everyone at that table had heard of his screw up on his first day at Hogwarts and they were _still_ curiously surveying him like a new food product.

“Lucas, right?”

Two red-haired twins with twinkling, mischievous smiles had ended up at both of his sides. They must have noticed how uncomfortable he was, but he wasn’t really prepared to do the whole ‘try not to make the little psycho from Hufflepuff comfortable’ kind of thing.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, studying the big pile of fruit on the table.

“I’m Fred.”

“I’m George.”

“Good to meet you.”

“It’s about time, really.”

“We’ve heard some things-”

“-But we don’t really feel inclined to believe them,” completed George, relaxed against the table. “Any friend of those three is a friend of ours, really…”

“And if Hermione trusts you-“

“-which she does…”

“…we do too. So don’t make yourself a stranger, alright? You’re welcome here anytime.”

Lucas stifled a laugh, at the twin’s creative way of finishing their sentences. He had already heard of the Weasley twins, mischievous and innovative 6th year boys who were popular in the school, and he could see why. They were very charismatic and sincere.

“Thanks.”

“Look at that, George,” said Fred smiling back. “He smiles.”

“Now we’ve really got to ask…”

“And it’s not just because we’re curious, though it is a little…”

“How do you feel about Hermione?”

And magically, half the Gryffindors who had seen him with Hermione before, including Neville, the Creevey boys and the trio of Chasers had suddenly warped next to them, with big creepy grins on their faces. 

Lucas shuddered.

  
~

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I previously uploaded Chapter 6 part 2 by mistake!
> 
> ~

**Chapter 6  (A)**

 

“Alastor Moody! Ex-auror, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Any questions?” Said man turned away from the chalkboard to access his combined class of currently, apprehensive and nervous students.

Harry gulped and against his better judgment, slowly raised his hand. Heck everyone’s questioning gaze and Hermione’s keen sense of observation. The boy who lived knew that if he didn’t see _her_ any sooner, he would explode from the anxiety. Scary new professor be damned.

“Yes, Potter?”

“P-Professor, I was just wondering, um… Joan isn’t here yet, so-”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding, Potter!” chortled a familiar taunt from the back of the class.

Draco was resting his head on the palm of his hand, raising his eye brows in an intimidating fashion when his all-time rival whirled around in his seat to glare at him. He ignored the glare and continued the mocking. Joan wasn’t here to stop him so there.

“Joan’s not coming for class, or any Dark Arts class for that matter. I’m surprised you didn’t know… ” Draco’s eyes suddenly narrowed to a fierce glare, the previous relaxed expression gone from his face.

“So, _Champion,_ ” he sneered with contempt. “I suggest you stop wasting your time on her… _literally.”_

Harry resisted the urge to punch that arrogant smirk clear off the blonde’s face. The rest of the Slytherins chuckled darkly, but Harry paid them no heed. Draco hadn’t appeared to want to humiliate him...

Was that a threat?

“Enough of your blabbering, Malfoy, if you don’t want to serve detention for a week!” Professor Moody’s voice cut in, putting an end to the discussion.

Harry turned back to face the ex-auror who was staring down intently at Harry, as if debating how to phrase his next statement into proper words. He cleared his throat and began, loud enough for the entire class to hear so as to prevent further questioning on the current subject matter.

“Professor Snape has given me clear instructions _not_ to let Ms. Snape participate in any Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, ever. She is banned from coming into contact with any form of Dark Magic. Now, who can tell me-“

 

“OH MAN NOOOOOOO. WAIT.”

As if to mock him, said topic of discussion had just burst into class, hair in a complete and utter mess, school uniform rumpled with the blouse hanging slightly off one shoulder, and missing an outer robe. She looked like she had overslept. Harry’s face brightened considerably. Moody’s fell. And if he was the one the class happened to be laughing at, it wasn’t his concern at the moment.

“I AM SORRY.” Joan exclaimed in her usual loud manner, probably to hide her awkwardness.

“BUT I AM HERE NOW. YES.”

“ONE!!” Moody hollered, towering over her.

“You aren’t supposed to be here! I believe you know that very well! And two,” he surveyed the state of her clothing.

“You look as if you had a row with a Hippogriff! What happened to your robe and your uniform! And why in Merlin’s name are you wearing pants!?”

“Em. Er. Bad- nightmares- dream… Goblet- But I always wear pants! Besides, I feel that this class is too important to miss out on, Professor Snape’s orders or not.”

Moody groaned in exasperation from the girl’s muddled up speech and poor excuse for disobeying the Potions Master’s orders. However, he couldn’t fault her on her last statement and grudgingly asked her to take a seat. Whatever consequences that came his way weren’t going to be his problem.

Satisfied upon convincing (or annoying) the DADA professor, Joan made her way down the center aisle of the class, looking for an empty seat as she went. When her eyes stumbled upon Lucas, her smile turned into an evil smirk and she stood next to where he was seated and bent low to whisper into his ear.

“Hello, Lucas.” She giggled in false charm.

“Don’t worry; I’m still going to hold you onto the end of your bargain. But not anytime soon. Too much going on, you know? We shall postpone our little chat until further notice.”

Lucas stiffened and clenched his fists but otherwise said nothing. Ron, who was seated next to Lucas looked at Joan in question, but the Slytherin just shook her head and smiled sweetly, before continuing to look for a place to sit. She slid in next to Neville, who looked like he could use some air. And a hug. And a break. Along with many other things. The shy and timid boy gazed at Joan nervously from the corner of his eye. She gave him a friendly smile.

“Neville, right? Don’t worry, I’m no Potions Master.  I won’t bite… much.” She winked. It seemed to give the poor boy some assurance.

Class soon commenced with Professor Moody focusing on the awareness of the 3 unforgivable curses known to all Wizarding world. As usual, Hermione, who was seated next to Harry, had raised her hand instantly and gave the first curse: The Imperius Curse.

That seemed to have greatly excited Professor Moody as he demonstrated said curse with one of the live specimens in class: a spider. Controlling the spider’s every movement he brought it sailing throughout class, on Ron’s head, Parvati’s hand, Lucas’ chest and even Draco’s face which served as a good morning laugh.

The laughter immediately died down when Moody opened his mouth to speak.

“Many Wizards,” he explained while walking down the aisle, “claimed to have only done The Dark Lord’s bidding, due to the effects of the Imperius curse. But here’s a question,” he turned to face his students.

“How do we sort out the liars?”

A few nervous hands slowly crept up, but what surprised Joan, was that one of those hands, belonged to Neville. She frowned when the professor ushered him to the front of the class. Neville had looked so scared; even more terrified than usual. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Longbottom, is it?”

Words seemed to have failed Neville who only managed to nod his head in consent.

“Come on, boy, what is it?”

“T-The Cru-Cruciatus –his voice hitched- Curse, sir.”

“Correct! Correct!” Again, Moody sounded too excited for comfort. “The torture curse: known to cause its victims excruciating agony. The Dark Lord used this to torture his victims for either information or punishment, leaving them begging for death during the process.”

A sliver of emotion ghosted past Neville’s eyes and his fingers started to twitch. Professor Moody was oblivious to the boy’s sudden discomfort and cast the Cruciatus on the spider as a form of demonstration. The spider on the table began to screeched and twitch in agony, its legs going up to rest on its head seemingly in agony as the curse invaded its mind and body. The poor creature started convulsing and Neville stood rigid, biting his bottom lip as he shut his eyes tightly to tune out the pained cries. His fingers began twitching more and his breath came out in shallow gasps. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“ _THAT’S ENOUGH!”_ A sudden voice cried out, followed by a spell.

Before Neville knew it, he found himself being pulled backwards into the air by an unseen force, as he was slowly and gradually guided back to his seat. With wide and shocked watery eyes, he gazed up at his apparent savior who still had her wand out.

Joan turned to stare at Professor Moody, anger and disappointment sounding clearly in her voice. She lowered her wand. By now, the entire class fell silent, shifting in their seats awkwardly as the tension in the air rose to a suffocating level.

“Couldn’t you see how much it was bothering him?” she placed a comforting hand on Neville’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Moody looked a little awkward, doing his best to salvage the situation by deciding to drop the matter totally. He picked up the now weak and weary spider and walked towards the table where Joan and Neville sat. He cleared his throat and placed the creature before the raven haired female. Joan stared at it emotionlessly, having totally lost her mood from the previous display.

“Perhaps you would like to give the final curse, Ms Snape.”

All eyes rested on the silent female as she seemed continued to gaze down upon the twitching spider, not moving a muscle. In fact, she remained seated for a good minute. However, just when Moody was convinced she wasn’t going to disrupt his lesson any further, Joan slowly rose, a passive expression on her face.

Quiet whispers travelled across the classroom but Joan paid them no heed, her mind too preoccupied with other things. She couldn’t explain it, but a sudden impulse beckoned her forward, filling her head with bitter-sweet whispers and clouding her mind with dark temptation. As the dark clouds of her mind swirled, there was a barest glint in her red eyes before raising her wand.

“Avada Kedavera!”

A bright green light shot forth, consumed the spider, before it lay motionless on the table, dead. Immediately, as if coming out of a trance, Joan’s eyes widened in horror as she gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth as her wand clattered on the floor, the noise seemingly amplified by the deafening silence. Joan’s body shook, her hands still clasped firmly over her mouth and tears had already begun to fall. She felt sick.

What had she done? _How? Why?_

She saw her nightmare all over again.

Her knees felt weak and she would have lost her footing if not for Blaise who had rushed forward from his seat behind her, to support her trembling frame. Most were too shocked and terrified to speak, never having witnessed that curse performed before them. The display was unsettling. They were called the Unforgivable Curses for a reason, and for a student to have used it, and a fourth year no less…

“The Killing Curse: the one curse that cannot be defended against. If one should fall victim to it, the result is instant death.” Moody turned away from Blaise who was fussing over Joan, the later refusing to respond to his voice.

Joan’s body had gone rigid as she kneeled on the floor, refusing to stand, refusing to move, like a lifeless puppet without a master’s skilled commands. Her expression was blank and haunted. Next to her, Neville could only gape dumbly as the dark Slytherin gathered her into his arms and hoisted her back on her seat. Blaise’s eyes conveyed a look of deep understanding; his mannerisms surprisingly calm and collected, as if it was common for his friend to behave this way. Neville made a mental note of that.

“Only one person was known to have survived this, and he is sitting in this room right now…”

Moody turned his back to the class, the previous events weighing heavily in his mind. There was a reason why Severus’ daughter was forbidden to so much as set foot to DADA class, and today’s spectacle had proven just that. He would definitely have to speak to the Potions Master about this, but first he believed that Dumbledore deserved this newfound knowledge more than anybody else.

After all, for a Muggle-born to have performed a curse she had never learnt or so much as heard of before, warranted immediate attention.

“… Class dismissed.”

~

 

“Did you see what she did back there!?” Ron exclaimed half terrified, half in awe.

The red head had seemed to have forgotten his persistent feud with his best friend and was busy gesturing madly and pointing back in the direction of their DADA classroom. All this while Harry had remained silent, trying to process and figure out a possible explanation behind the sudden turn of events.

How in Salazar’s name had Joan managed to perform such a dark and powerful curse, the very curse that killed his parents, and the very curse his mother had protected him from? Could Professor Snape have taught her that spell? No, he seriously doubted it. If Snape had wanted his daughter to be a master of the Dark Arts, he wouldn’t have banned her from class to begin with. Which reminded him…

“Say, Hermione, you know the school history, curriculum and rules like the back of your hand, right? Is it even possible for a student to be prohibited from participating in a core subject?”

The brunette looked surprised from the question, but answered anyway.

“Not from what I know. It is imperative for all witches and wizards to attend, complete and pass all core subjects because they are unable to be dropped. These subjects make up the main requirements for O.W.L.S, N.E.W.T.S and any other future magical career. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing…” Harry trailed off, his eyes following the two figures of Malfoy and Zabini as they hurried Joan off in the opposite direction.

Harry figured they were heading straight for the Slytherin dungeons.

“Just wondering.”

“Harry.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to regard the Hufflepuff who had remained silent until now. Lucas’ eyes accessed Harry suspiciously.

“This might sound like a long-shot, but I think… Joan might’ve placed your names in the Goblet as there is a strong possibility that with magic potential like that, she could have nullified Dumbledore’s age line - he held up his hand to stop any arguments from the trio- _However_ , she might not have consciously realized what she was doing.”

Ron’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“You mean… like some sort of split personality? Like back there in class?”

Lucas nodded. “Possibly. She couldn’t have been under the Imperius because the castle wards would have picked it up.”

At the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the familiar black trail of robes and uptight posture of a certain Potions Master cross the hallways and disappear round a corner in the same direction the Slytherin trio had went. His expression had looked worse for wear, pale and ashen as if he hadn’t managed to get enough sleep from worrying too much; and Harry figured as much. What with the Tri-Wizard scandal and the happenings from DADA lesson, there was no doubt that Snape had his hands full, over-flowing in fact.

Harry almost pitied Snape. Almost. After all, it couldn’t be easy to be in charge of Slytherin, teach Potions for all houses of all years, and now, manage the affairs of his child.

“I don’t know guys… Something tells me Snape knows more than he’s letting on.”

Hermione bit her lip.

“Do you mean to say that he’s keeping secrets from his own daughter?”

“You know what they say, ‘Mione,” added Ron seriously. “A parent would do everything in their power to protect their child, even if it means keeping the truth from them. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry unconsciously reached up to touch the scar on his forehead.

“Harry!”

The group of four whirled around in surprise, coming face to face with an out-of-breath Neville Longbottom. The panicky boy pushed his way past a few students to stop before them, panting and collecting his bearings.

“N-Neville? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Yeah, you looked like you saw Professor Snape or something.” Ron joked, but all words fells flat when he, like the others, realized Neville had come for more than just a friendly chat.

“Harry, it’s your girlfriend! She-“

“W-Wh-Wha-What!?” Harry sputtered, face flaming red in embarrassment.

“She’s not my girlfriend! Whoever said she was my girlfriend! I don’t like her that way-“

“Er… So you DO know who I’m talking about then?”

“…”

If Harry could have face-palmed, he would’ve, if not from the fact that he would further embarrass himself. He couldn’t believe- argh! Never mind. He heard a cheeky giggle from his side and knew without looking that it was Hermione.

“N-Never mind, Neville… what is it?”

“Oh! Well, it’s what happened in class just now, really. It was Zabini-“

Ron sighed in exasperation.

“Look, Neville, we already know that! We all have eyes you know?”

“No, no, no! You don’t understand!” Neville quipped desperately, eager to get his point across. For once, he felt like he had something important to say, to offer and help his friends in some way.

“You weren’t next to him! It was the look in his eyes! It was so full of understanding, so… unfazed. And his actions were almost as if they were clockwork, like he had seen and done what he did many times before.”

When it seemed that he had the group’s full attention, he continued.

“And just before class ended, I heard him and Malfoy whispering something about ‘nightmare’, ‘snake’ and ‘old man’. I don't know, guys… whatever it is, I think… I think you need to be careful, Harry.”

“… I need to speak with Sirius. But first...”

With that, Harry thanked Neville hastily and jogged off in the direction of the Dungeons. His two best friends hurried after him, leaving Lucas alone and confused, before realizing he was late for Herbology and ran off in the opposite direction.

No matter, he would get his answers later. It wasn’t worth getting on Professor Sprout’s bad side, especially not this early.

“Harry! For goodness sake, Harry! Slow down!”

“Yeah, mate! Where’re we going?”

Harry whipped his around as he continued down the corridor, calling out to his friends.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to speak to Zabini!”

 

~

 

“No.”                                              

“Oh, come on!”

Ron threw his hands up in exasperation, giving the Slytherin a withering stare.

“Ok, Harry! Your turn! I give!”

The golden trio had found Zabini loitering around the corridors outside Dumbledore’s office, looking bored above anything else. Why he was there and by himself, they weren’t sure, but they were willing to bet their entire Gringotts accounts that he was waiting for someone; someone by the name of Draco Malfoy no doubt.

“Zabini, what is Malfoy doing in Dumbledore’s office?” Harry pressed on tersely.

He was really getting impatient with Blaise’s difficult and nonchalant attitude. Said boy yawned and folded his arms.

“I’m sorry, Potter. Last time I checked, there wasn’t a sign that said ‘Harry Potter Only’. Although the amount of times you go whinging to the Headmaster could easily contribute to-”

“Zabini, _please,”_ Hermione stressed. “If Malfoy is in there with Joan, please tell us! We’re her friends! We just want to help…”

Cold obsidian eyes narrowed dangerously at her, as Hermione squeaked softly and backed down. Why the hell were Slytherins so damn good at death glares?

“I have no interest in helping a _Mudblood.”_

It was that word again.

“Well!” Hermione huffed. “Isn’t Joan a ‘Mudblood’ too?”

Zabini opened his mouth to fire back, but seemed to have thought better of it and closed it. Hermione knew she had him now. As the dark Slytherin kept silent and tried desperately to remain distracted by rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Hermione cleared her throat and tried again.

“Please,” she coaxed softer now. “We’re really worried about her. If you know anything, _any_ information at all…”

Zabini frowned and seemed to weigh his options. On one hand, he found no reason to help these insufferable Gryffindors; he owed them nothing. But on the other hand… He and Draco had come close to nothing in helping Joan’s strange condition; and even though the stoic Slytherin would never openly admit it, he was worried about her too.

 “Does ‘nightmare’, ‘snake’ and ‘old man’ ring any bells?”

At Zabini’s surprised gasp, Harry took it as a good sign to continue.

“Oh, it does now, does it? Well, what if I told you I knew _exactly_ what’s been bothering Joan? Right down to the very detail.”

Harry smirked in triumph, doing a little victory dance in his head. He knew Slytherin’s weren’t as easily moved by compassion and pleadings, so he opted for the more appropriate approach: incentive.

Zabini seemed to hesitate for a bit, as he shifted a little from where he stood. He appeared to be having an internal battle with himself, before he sighed in surrender. It seemed that Pride gave into Friendship.

“Fine, Potter. This way.”

And with that, he turned and briskly made his way towards the dungeons. The Golden trio struggled to keep up, confused.

“Wait! Where’re we going!? Dumbledore’s office is back that way!”

Zabini laughed in his usual condescending fashion.

“I didn’t exactly say that Draco was in Dumbledore’s office now, did I?”

 

~

 

The Slytherin common room was shrouded in a comforting and relaxing silence. Its students had left its quarters for the various classes, not due to return until after late noon. This gave plenty of alone and conducive research time for a certain blonde boy to shift through the few thick, leather-bound volumes he managed to snag from the library. The books were all on the Dark Arts and the only reason he had access to them was because Professor Snape had given him access to the restricted section (wouldn’t Granger be jealous?) of the library. On top of that, ever since the DADA incident, he and Blaise had been given permission to skip classes and look after their unstable female companion.

Draco was currently lounging on a black leather couch, flipping through ones of the volumes, engrossed with its contents. His silver eyes read and scrutinized the text word for word, not wanting to miss out on anything important. Something had been plaguing Joan ever since her name emerged from the Goblet, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

It was moments like these that Draco often found himself wondering how much he had changed. Well, he didn't exactly treat and regard others differently – still with the same amount of pride and haughtiness; not to mention he still hated Potter’s guts. However, when it involved _her_ or simply being around her, a small part of him knew that his inner Malfoy could do nothing but concede to her overwhelming aura of open acceptance.

There was just something about Joan that made him feel comfortable, safe, relaxed, and dare he say it, happy. All his life, he was brought up under strict Malfoy customs and despite being doted on by his parents, it didn’t mean they weren’t hard on him; oh no, in fact they demanded more from him than anyone else – stricter, firmer, colder, and more ruthless. Perhaps Joan’s eccentricity eased the expectations and helped him be less uptight.

The sound of the common room entrance jarred Draco out of his thoughts. He continued reading from where he left off, not bothering to look up to know that the visitor was his best friend. Apart from himself, Blaise was the only other person allowed off of classes today.

“Well Blaise, took you long enough! Anyway, I think I’m close to figuring out what’s wrong with – Draco looked up – WHAT IN BLOODY HELL ARE THE GOOFBALL TRIO DOING HERE!?!?”

Blaise saluted the blonde with a blank stare as Harry, Ron and Hermione stood determinedly behind him.

“Yo.”

“Don’t ‘yo’ me!”

A veined in Draco’s head popped as he and Blaise launched into an argument over betraying trust and how much he loathed Potter. Well, more of Draco shouting and Blaise remaining calm in his friend’s fury.

“I TRUSTED YOU-“

“They cornered me-

“CAN’T YOU KEEP SECRETS-“

“They can help-“

“WHY DOES POTTER GET INVOLVED IN THINGS THAT DON’T-“

“Now you’re just sounding like a petulant-“

“GRYFFINDORS ARE STUPID-“

“What the hell Draco-“

“WHAT COULD POTTER HAVE THAT COULD POSSIBLY HELP HER? JOAN’S GETTING WORSE AND WE WON'T ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING BY ENTERTAINING A BUNCH OF IGNORANT GYFFINDORS!”

Draco lashed out, breathing deeply in the silence of the common room. Four pairs of eyes stared at him in shock at the obvious hidden meaning of his words. As the Slytherin prince fought to stay calm, Harry, Ron and Hermione shared look of understanding. Harry’s expression softened, deciding to let Draco’s previous insults slide.

Because for once in 14 years, Malfoy cared; he actually cared.

“Malfoy,” Harry stepped forward.

“I think I might know what’s been haunting Joan’s dreams.”

Draco snorted, unconvinced.

“Right, Potter. You expect me to believe that after you waltz right in and-“

“ _Listen._ Unless what you found in that book is exactly what Joan is suffering from, I’m the only lead you got.”

Harry waited patiently for Malfoy to ponder over his words. Like Malfoy, he too was worried and scared for the young Snape. If whatever she was suffering from was what he suspected, then…

“Alright, Potty, I’m listening.”

“Could you please stop calling me by those names?”

“I agreed to listen. I didn’t agree to start liking you.”

Harry sighed tiredly. Malfoy would always be Malfoy. Some things just don’t change. In a way, it made Harry feel a little relieved in a sense that at least not everything in his world was going topsy-turvy.

“Whatever. Correct me if I’m wrong, but has Joan been… muttering the words ‘nightmare’, ‘ snake’ and ‘old man’ a lot?”

Draco nodded.

“Yeah… she sometimes slips in and out of consciousness at the most bizarre of times, sometimes even when walking or in the middle of her cereal. It all started on the night when the results were announced. She woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Gave us all quite a scare.”

“Does she remember what her nightmares, or day-mares, are about?” Harry pried.

“No. Probably just fragments. The snake and old man are the only things she seem to be able to recall.”

“Anything else? Malfoy, try to recall even the slightest detail.”

Draco frowned intensely doing his best.

“I don’t- At least- Well-“

“Green light. A Burst of green light.”

The five occupants in the room turned to regard the owner of the voice. Leaning against the railing of the stairs, which led to the female quarters, was none other than Joan. Her hair was slightly ruffled and she still looked a little drowsy as if she had just woken up (which she probably did). She was clad in a long-sleeve white shirt that looked too big for her, which ended at mid-thigh, with the collar falling slightly off her left shoulder. The sight caused the four boys in the room to blush a little, before remembering this was their friend standing before them.

“Joan, why are you down here?” Draco asked softly.

“Couldn’t sleep; too much screaming.”

She walked towards them. Her eyes met Harry’s before she sighed in disappointment.

“Blaise… I was hoping you could have distracted him longer. I didn’t want him getting involved.”

Blaise shrugged.

“Sorry. Stubbornness is a Gryffindor trait. Can’t do balls about it.”

“Joan…”

Said girl found pleading and confused green eyes boring into her own and immediately felt bad for leaving the boy in the dark. Harry wore his heart on his sleeve and it was incredibly easy to read him. Joan didn’t need to think twice to know that the owner of those brilliant green eyes missed her terribly. That knowledge warmed her heart, making it flutter.

Bare foot, she bounded lightly over to Harry, before wrapping her arms around the boy’s neck, leaning into the embrace. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around Joan’s waist and pulled her closer against him. And as he leaned forward to bury his head in the crook of Joan’s neck, breathing in her scent, Harry knew he could get through this tournament as long as he had her by his side. At that moment, he didn’t care where they were, who was watching and what they were doing; to him, all he knew, all he felt, was himself and Joan. That was enough for him.

“Missed you…”

“I missed you too, Harry.”

“Oh enough you two! Get a room!” Hermione chided, causing the pair to blush profusely and pull apart.

Next to her, Ron had gone silent as he stood awkwardly, feeling out of place. Suddenly, his best friend’s obvious interest in the young Snape didn’t seem so rumored now.

A loud cough from Blaise brought the group’s attention back to the matter at hand. As the six of them got comfortable on the couch and began delving into deep discussion, Harry felt a strange prickling sensation from his side and looked up to find Draco glaring at him so intensely, Harry swore he would’ve ran off screaming if he happened to be alone in the room. Malfoy looked positively furious.

“So, Potter, you were saying?” Draco hissed as he forced his words and false politeness through his teeth.

“R-Right. Well, recently, ever since the summer break, I’ve been having the exact same nightmare every night… about Voldemort.”

“Voldemort!?” The Slytherin trio exclaimed in disbelief.

“Potter, I knew you had issues, but not _this_ bad!”

Harry sighed and looked at Ron and Hermione pleadingly for help. How else could he get them to believe him unless someone else testified for him first; or at least helped him in coming up with a decent explanation. Surprisingly, Ron decided to come to his friend’s aid. Twin looks from Hermione proved her shock.

Ron was still mad at Harry – nothing had changed. However, he knew there was a time for everything so his anger had to be put aside to address something far more important. After all, this _was_ Voldemort they were talking about.

“As you know, Harry received his scar from Voldemort when the Dark Lord failed to kill him – they nodded – Well, every year since then, at random periods of time, Harry’s scar would hurt and sometimes, he would wake up from a nightmare with his scar burning.

“After a while, the three of us figured that Harry’s scar is somehow linked to Voldemort’s mind, his thoughts and consciousness. So sometimes the visions that Harry gets are what Voldemort’s seeing.”

“So let me get this straight,” Joan clarified, tapping her index finger against Harry’s forehead where his scar was. The boy grumbled in irritation.

“Harry, you’re able to see into Voldemort’s head and heart because the two of you are linked through this scar? Meaning, you can see what he sees and he can see what you see?”

Harry paused, processing Joan’s last question. He hadn’t actually thought of that last bit. If that was so, his life just got more dangerous and complicated. However, nothing of the sort had happened to him yet and he’d like to savor this moment of peace and privacy while he could.

“Probably. And regarding your nightmares, Joan… I believe that they bear a strong resemblance to mine.”

Harry had no idea why he was divulging such private information to anyone other than Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and Sirius. Heck, even Ron’s family knew nothing about this. However, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“In my nightmares, I would always be looking at my surroundings in Voldemort’s point of view, with narrowed and slightly blurred vision. Recently, my dreams consisted of ‘myself’ seated in an old and abandoned manor – Harry’s face scrunched up every now and then as he recalled his dream –

“I would hear a soft high pitched hiss belonging to that of Voldemort I believe. At the foot of the chair is a man – a short, fearful, beady-eyed man. Voldemort would command him cruelly and threaten his life over something I’m not quite sure of. This man is called Wormtail.

“There I another man in the room who appears to be taller and younger than the other. He seems to carry himself more confidently and respectfully and considers himself a loyal servant. Him and Voldemort discuss about something before a large snake slithers into the room through the open crack of the door.

“’Someone’s outside the door’ the snake would hiss at Voldemort. Voldemort would command Wormtail to open the door and an old man with a limp leg will hobble into the room. The dream always ends the same way: There would be a bright green light and the old man drops onto the ground, dead.”

Harry finished his story and stared at his audience, who appeared to have trouble digesting his tale. Amongst the three Slytherins, Joan seemed the least upset, which further confirmed Harry’s suspicions on the girl’s strange new visions.

“Whatever it is, this is a clear and absolute sign. Voldemort’s back or at least, his presence is confirmed.”

Understanding the weight of Harry’s silent request, Joan turned to face her two male companions, her expression pleading. Blaise, after much deliberation, sighed and nodded, promising not to breathe a word about this to anyone outside this circle, not even his mother. Draco however, remained silent, staring intently at his hands.

Gently, Joan reached out to place hand comfortingly over Draco’s causing the boy to look up and fix her with a sour expression on his face. Sighing, Joan held her friend’s hands in hers, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles.

“Draco, I know this is hard for Harry, for _me_ to ask this of you, but you have to promise not to mention a word of this to anyone, especially your father. I’m not asking you to betray your father’s trust, but, _please_ Draco… for me?”

Draco’s mind was in turmoil. The temptation to inform his father on his recent discovery on Potter’s abilities and the Dark Lord’s return was far too great. He couldn’t pass up such an opportunity to receive praise from his father. However…

The blonde found his once sour expression melt away to be replaced with the tiniest hint of a smile. As Draco gazed down into deep, attractive red eyes, set on a face that never failed to make his day complete and happy, he found himself giving in once again. Draco could be many things, but he was no murderer. He couldn’t have Joan in danger, Lucius Malfoy be damned.

“You can hold me to it.”

Joan smiled gratefully, before her face and voice took on a serious tone as she addressed Harry opposite her. She could tell that Harry was still paranoid over Draco telling on them, but she knew the blonde better than anyone else in this school and was confident their secret will go on kept. She had faith in her friend.

Joan chose her next words carefully.

“So, are you saying that Voldemort and I are somehow… linked as well?”

The boy who lived sighed heavily, hunching over as his head hung low, hands clasped together so tightly that they shook. He closed his eyes, not knowing what to think anymore.

“I don’t know, Joan… I don’t know.”

 

~

“See, all you had to do was talk to them!” said Hermione with a big smile, in a tut-tut know it all sort of way.

Lucas threw himself back against the wall in an exasperated manner, but his lips held a grin. “Okay, whatever.”

The two were sitting on the floor at the corner of the library at Lucas’ insistence, assuring Hermione that it was far more comfortable and relaxing than sitting on a cold chair and a desk.

Of course, Hermione argued that the purpose of a library wasn’t to be as relaxed and comfortable as possible, in which Lucas promptly stole her heavy pile of books (‘you have really strong arms!’ he groaned) and brought them over to his favorite corner, where they were now sitting.

Earlier that morning, they had been in the great hall when Ernie Mcmillan and Hannah Abbott had come in. Hermione had insisted that he stop ‘giving them that face’ and make nice with them, and Lucas debated with her until she literally called them over to the table. It had been awkward at first, but now Lucas had two new friends.

 _Though,_ as Lucas let himself be momentarily captivated by the pretty, brown haired girl’s cute smile as she happily opened a six hundred and seventy-eight page size book, _she was already enough._

He wasn’t completely sure why she was so determined he should make friends with everyone else, because in Durmstrang he only made friends with people who he could make use of…and he had convinced himself it was just the way he was, but it wasn’t true. He wanted friends and companionship, like everyone else. It was just…

Like a high sobering down the next morning, Lucas’ felt a chill down his body and a disturbing realization that he was already very emotionally involved with this girl. She was a real friend, accepting him despite what she had heard and constantly putting herself out for him with no benefit to herself. What was it he had told himself again? _She would have been a very useful ally…_ it was just impossible not to want to be genuine friends with Hermione Granger.

If something were to happen to her…

“Lucas?”

His face was all scrounged up uncomfortably, in a very tense way.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

She frowned. “It’s your stomach, isn’t it? I told you not to eat that many cream puffs for breakfast.”

At this, he laughed and almost rolled over. “It’s really not!” he struggled between coughing and laughing.

Hermione pouted.

They sat there for a few minutes, sitting quietly and contentedly reading their respective books.

After a while, Hermione peeked over at him. He was looking tense and intimidating as usual…when they were not talking, he was always like that.

It was really difficult not to look in those eyes-they were such a unique silver. And the rest of him wasn’t too bad either; even with his thick clothes she could tell that he was ridiculously fit. Maybe he played Quidditch…

And his lips were always fidgeting. _Like a little show,_ she giggled internally. It was by watching his lips that she could tell the rest of the general expressions his face was making-he was very animated…

“Hermione.”

His voice felt like someone had just dumped cold water on her. She blushed furiously; how long had she been looking at him like that? Had he noticed? Why was she looking at him like that? Was he going to get really angry? Wh-

“Oh my gosh,” he said, his eyes widening in panic. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He placed two cold hands on her warm face, which made her blush even more. “You look like going to start crying at any time.”

 Just like that, she breathed easy. He was a dense as a lightbulb, it seemed.

“I’m okay. Just…a little hot.” And as if to illustrate, she pulled a bit at her collar.

She looked great as usual, but that little tugging of the collar suddenly jabbed him in the heart, and made his body flush.

“Yeah, no kidding...”

“What?” She asked, a little irritated as she recovered. He was always muttering.

“Nothing,” he said hurriedly. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten…” Hermione started packing. “I think I’ll go see if I can find Ron again, he was still a little moody this morning. I don’t want him to say anything to Harry that he might regret.”

He grinned. “Let me show you something.”

Before Hermione could say anything, Lucas had taken her by the hand rather excitedly, and led her to another section of the library. The clock there showed 9.59.

“And three, two, one…”

Lucas snapped his fingers.

And at ten on the dot, Viktor Krum rushed in with a big pile of books. The two of them watched, almost laughing too loudly as he laid them all out on the desk like unraveling a new deck cards and began with the biggest one. It was like watching a machine go at it, which was somewhat impressive but also quite funny at the same time, because of the way his stiff body moved.

“He does this everyday, at the exact same time,” chirped Lucas animatedly. It’s really amusing to watch, but also pretty impressive, don’t you think? It’s some sort of Quidditch discipline, I think, because of the time he has to spend playing for the Bulgarian team he has to miss out on some classes, and has to study a lot on his own…I’ve heard that half of the Bulgarian Quidditch team don’t have a complete education, but he wants to be better…”

And though Hermione tried to listen to him, she couldn’t help but notice that he was still holding her hand.

“You’re really off, Hermione,” said Lucas, worriedly. “Did you hear anything I said?”

“Um, yeah…” Hermione pushed a curl behind her hair. “I was just thinking…about Joan. I’m pretty worried. You’re really worried too, aren’t you?”

For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a dangerous expression flash across his face. But it left as soon as it came, and there was only a small crease on his forehead to accompany thoughtful eyes.

Lucas pressed his back against the wall, his head lightly bumping off it.

“You know, people can’t justcast _Avada Kedavra_ any old time they feel like it. It’s unblockable, and there’s no counter curse. Otherwise, people in duels would use it all the time.”

He turned to look out the window over the great lake, the sun just kissing the water’s surface. “The taking of a life is so sacred that it could split your soul…I don’t think a spider counts, but…you have to really want it to _die_ so badly that you’d give up your life for it. And it doesn’t matter how skilled you are…”

He turned back to face Hermione, his expression grave and piercing. Hermione gulped at his next words, which undoubtedly served as a warning. “It’s a personality thing. A desire to kill. Sadistic, ruthless, homicidal…whatever you call it.”

“That girl is dangerous.”

~

 


	7. Chapter 6B

" _M-My Lord…?"_

_Watery beady eyes looked up desperately up on the figure seated on the chair. His posture was hunched, his body language nervous and twitchy. There was a brief movement on the chair._

" _Open the door, Wormtail, so I can give our guest a proper greeting…"_

_The servant known as Wormtail bowed lowly in respect, and moved swiftly to pull the door wide open to reveal a surprised and guarded old Muggle male. Not the slightest bit of fear showed in his expression, nor in his heart. However, before the Muggle could even get a single sentence out, he felt the wind knocked out of him and the briefest of agony as he was blasted with a strange, eerie green light._

_He fell to the floor, dead, while the sound of cruel laughter echoed throughout the dark room._

* * *

Joan's eyes shot open and she let out a strangled shout. Her breaths came out rushed and uneven as she fought to will her nightmare away and return to the land of the living. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead and temples; she had broken into a cold sweat. Taking in the familiar colours of deep royal green and midnight velvet, she groaned in relief.

She was in her bed in the girls' quarters. There was no Wormtail, no old man, no dusty and creaky floorboards; all was well. Reassured, she sat up slowly –

Only to find herself greeted with a face full of pillow.

"Do you mind! Some people are trying to sleep!" grumbled Daphne Greengrass, before turning her back to Joan and going back to sleep.

Joan pulled a face and imitated a mock exaggeration of her tone behind her back. Next to her to her right, Pansy was still out like a light, snoring softly.

Pulling back the blankets and shuffling into a pair of green bedroom slippers, Joan shuffled quietly to the door and exited the bedroom (she made sure she closed it softly). Climbing up the black spiral staircase and crossing the common room, Joan hurried to another spiral staircase on the other end, which led to the boys' dormitory.

" _Lumos._ " She whispered, sending out a ball of light down the dark corridor.

'Show me Draco's room.' Joan thought, concentrating hard.

The light darted about gracefully, seemingly checking each and every door, before pausing at the second-last door down the corridor. Joan hurried towards it and the light disappeared as soon as she stood before the door. She held her wand out to the doorknob.

" _Alohomora."_

A soft click and a turn of the knob, and she was in.

The room seemed bigger than the one she, Daphne, Pansy, Flora and Hestia, shared. She rolled her eyes - probably because it was Draco's, pure and simple.

Speaking of said blonde, she found him sleeping on the (biggest) bed to the right next to Vincent and Gregory's.

'Lucky ~' Joan thought gleefully when she noticed that Blaise's bed was on the opposite end of the room next to Theodore's.

Creeping quietly towards Draco, she leant over her friend's sleeping form and proceeded to shake him awake. Said boy grumbled something that sounded vaguely like "5 more minutes mother" before turning the other side. Joan continued her relentless assault.

"Draco, Draco, Draco! Wake up! Wake uuuuuuppppppppp!" she whispered loudly.

Draco groaned again and turned to lie on his back, opening his eyes slowly. He was fully awake when he found himself staring up into wide, blinking red pools. He then felt a blush creep up his face when he realized exactly which part of his body Joan was currently sitting on. Draco opened his mouth in protest.

Reacting quickly, Joan clamped a hand firmly over the discontented blonde's mouth, muffling his complaints effectively. Draco struggled and tried to pry the girl's hand away but she had a pretty firm grip.

"Draco, what's with you? It's me!" Joan hissed.

Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto his pillow with a groan. THAT was exactly the point! It WAS her! He prayed desperately his friend didn't notice anything… different.

Thankfully, she didn't.

"Look, if you promise to keep quiet, I'll let go."

Draco nodded in vigor and Joan released her hold on him, sliding off her friend as she crossed the room to do the same to Blaise. She shook him a few times, but when she failed to evoke a response or reaction from the snoozing dark boy, she pounced.

"Blaaaaaaaaaiiiiiisssssseeeee eeeeee!"

"Are you absolutely certain? Just like Potter said?"

Joan sighed, exasperated, but did not slow in her strides down the quiet, torch-lit corridor. It was approximately 3am in the morning and definitely way past the allocated curfew for students. Filch usually patrolled the halls during afterhours and it took great lengths for the Slytherin trio to dodge the insane old man and his insufferable old cat he so fondly dubbed as Mrs. Norris.

"For the 15th time, Draco –  _YES!"_

The blonde was starting to annoy her with his incessant questioning. Sure, he was worried; she got that. But honestly, it was starting to sound as if he was the one being haunted with visions of Voldemort, not her.

They stopped before a large, grand golden statue of a phoenix, its surface gleaming from the light casted by the flaming torches.

"You think the Headmaster changed the password?"

"Blaise, don't you think he would've told at least me if he did? Honestly."

Fine, she knew she was behaving uncharacteristically cranky, but that's what happens when one doesn't get enough sleep, and surrounded by mentally slow half-awake best friends. She heard Blaise mumble something nasty under his breath, but ignored him, calling out to the statue confidently.

"Sherbet lemon!"

And just as she expected, the statue began to ascend to give way to a rising, spiral staircase. They hopped on and waited for the enchanted steps to bring them to the top. A loud 'boom' resounded off the stone walls when the stairs stilled and locked firmly into place.

Draco, Blaise and Joan proceeded forward, walking through a narrow opening which led into the Headmaster's grand study. The wizards in the portraits yawned and cracked their eyes open to stare curiously down at the three late-night visitors, but upon seeing who they were, went back to sleep.

On the highest shelf on the far left, the Sorting Hat snored peacefully, undisturbed. Rows upon rows of books lined the vast walls, seemingly endless. It was a wonder exactly how much and how extensively the Headmaster read in his free time. A few of those books lay open on the desk next to a stack of parchments. The latest piece on top of the others had a dark red symbol of double letter 'M's that overlapped each other, which stood for Ministry of Magic.

Joan pulled her collar to the side to reveal the exact same symbol tattooed just above her left breast. She stared at it intently. The enchanted mark was bestowed upon her shortly after Dumbledore had informed her about her participation in the tournament.

Due to her and Harry's age, the both of them were deemed highly mismatched against their more magically advanced competition. However, the Goblet's decision was absolute and one way or another, they had to remain in the competition. As a result, the Ministry of Magic had ruled her and Harry to work alongside each other during the tasks. The only limitation they had was that they were not allowed to discuss or plan anything together in advance before each task, but they could do so individually. This meant that while performing the 3 tasks, they had to think on their own feet. This way, things would be fair for the other of-age champions involved.

The Headmaster had probably summoned Harry here earlier in the evening to inform him about the new rules set out for them.

A soft and gentle screech sounded from the right and all three pairs of eyes turned to stare at a tired, flaming red phoenix – the Headmaster's loyal and treasured pet. Fawkes cocked its head inquisitively to the side, before expanding its wings to fly off through a barely noticeable door at the study's far back. It probably went to fetch its owner.

Draco and Blaise made themselves comfortable on a humble couch, while Joan took her usual place on a chair facing the Headmaster's desk. They didn't have to wait long however, when the white-bearded, kindly figure of the Headmaster emerged from the small door (probably his quarters) and slowly made his way over.

Smiling and greeting the trio warmly, he sat himself down at his desk, perched his chin on his hands and waited patiently for Joan to begin. Frequent visits to his office had become a common occurrence ever since the first night of the young Snape's visions.

"I know why you're here, my dear."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly as he regarded the girl before him. She really resembled her father sometimes, more than she realized.

"You've spoken to Harry, I presume? And at this point, I am sure you have reason to believe that you and Voldemort share a common mind?"

Joan looked surprised by his words, but shrugged it off. This was the wisest and most extraordinary wizard next to Merlin; no doubt he would've known one way or another.

"Yes, sir. After Harry told me the exact details of his dream and tried to explain the experience of Voldemort seeing into his mind, I started to realize certain… differences. I don't –she bit her lip – I don't think Voldemort's mind and mine are linked the way his and Harry's are."

Dumbledore leaned forward, interested. Indeed, she was exhibiting the observant, calculating and intellectual qualities of her father. Dumbledore had similar talks to Harry every time regarding his visions or strange happenings, but the boy was more assertive and impulsive, hardly calm enough to deduce anything until his emotions were set aside.

"Oh? And what made you come to this conclusion?"

"Well, Harry said that when Voldemort penetrates his thoughts, his body goes through an intense and searing pain, like he's burning, but his mind is filled with chilling numbness when Voldemort 'speaks' to him. Whereas for me…"

Joan trailed off, doing her best to remember the incident at DADA class.

"There's no pain or numbness, no burning resistance nor cold chill. But there's this strange drowsiness that overtakes my consciousness, causing me to feel more… passive. Also, black fumes will creep at the corners of my vision and sometimes I feel them in my head. And there's this voice, this hissing, high pitched voice that would somehow take a hold of me and control my actions. It's not against my will, but it's not quite my will either. It's hard to explain."

By this time, Draco and Blaise were leaning forward intently to hear their friend's explanation. It was their first time hearing this too and sleep had long since left them.

"The voice is coaxing, patient and maybe even… tender? The strange thing is, I know it's Voldemort, so…"

Joan was frowning now, unable to make heads or tails about her last statement. She knew she probably sounded strange, albeit unconvincing, but these were her honest thoughts and she hoped the Headmaster would be able to explain things better.

Dumbledore leaned back on his chair, stroking his long white beard in contemplation. He hummed.

"How very odd indeed… Very different from what Harry goes through. Now, tell me about your recent dream, my child. This would be the first time you were able to fully recall it, yes?"

Again, Joan was rendered speechless for the second time in their discussion. She was about to ask  _how_  he even knew, but decided against it.

"Professor Dumbledore, whatever it is, it had spooked her enough to come seek Blaise and I out."

Draco made sure to leave out the other less… appropriate details. Dumbledore nodded.

"Indeed it had. Joan, if you please," he urged her to continue.

Joan sighed in resignation, not really knowing where to begin but decided to cut to the chase.

"I'm sure Harry had come to speak with you about his dream before, so I take it you're familiar with the events. What I noticed was different however, from Harry's description, was that I wasn't seeing things through Voldemort's eyes, but rather from a third person perspective. Nothing new happened and the events remained the same, however I realized something unsettling… about the snake."

Joan gulped nervously, not daring to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

"I-If… If I wasn't seeing things through Voldemort's eyes, then why… why was I able to understand the snake?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened in keen interest.

"And what did the snake say?"

"It said that there was someone outside the-"

"No, Joan." Dumbledore interrupted; his expression solemn as he regarded the confused girl.

"What did the snake say, word for word? In its voice."

"You want me to imitate a snake?"

When Joan was met with silence, she shot to her feet, enraged.

"Professor, that's absurd! If you wanted to hear an imitation you should have asked Harry! I don't speak Parseltongue!"

It's no wonder Draco and her father didn't quite like the Headmaster. The old man was completely bonkers!

"Joan, try." Dumbledore coaxed gently.

"That's all I'm asking for tonight."

There was a pause before Joan sighed loudly. She had no idea what this would accomplish or how it'll help her condition, but the Headmaster didn't seem to take no for an answer. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, forcing herself to concentrate and recall the hisses of the reptilian. And then, as if in a trance, her lips parted to allow the silky and seductive hisses of Parseltongue to carry throughout the study.

_eessaeyyssa…_

_ssahamass…_

_ssaah…_

_saeyyssae…_

_ssaeysses…_

When the last words died off, Joan's eyes had immediately shot open, a hand flying to her mouth to hold in a startled cry. Her body started to tremble, this time not from fear but from pure anger.

 _What_  was she?

In a fit of uncontrollable rage, Joan had grabbed her chair and flung it violently across the room, crashing into a bookcase. The shelf shook and some of its volumes had fallen to the ground. She then wiped the stack of parchment and scrolls off Dumbledore's desk with a scream, shaking her head furiously. Whipping out her wand, Joan then started to fire unstable blasts throughout the study, causing Fawkes to take flight and hide from the insane Slytherin.

Books were falling, furniture was getting destroyed, the study was in chaos; and Draco knew he had to do something before his friend caused any of them serious harm. Without thinking twice, Draco launched himself forward and tackled Joan to the ground, wrestling against the screaming female for her wand. Tumbling and rolling across the floor, Draco managed to pin Joan down, preventing her from doing any more damage.

Seeing as Malfoy had his hands full restraining the kicking and screaming girl, Dumbledore turned his attention to Zabini who still had his mouth hanging open slightly from shock.

"Zabini, I think it's wise to fetch Professor Snape, if you please."

Blaise, not needing to be told twice, nodded dumbly and hurried off.

Dumbledore returned his gaze back to the center of the room.

Joan seemed to have calmed down now. Her labored breathing and struggling had died down, to be replaced with heart-wrenching sobs as the once proud Slytherin lay defeated on the floor, crying. She didn't understand what had happened, was happening, why, and how?

The last time she checked, she was just a Professor's daughter, an ordinary Muggle-born witch, and coming into school for the very first time after 13 years of being cooped up at Snape manor. All she wanted was to make friends, be free from the confines of home and learn just like the other witches and wizards did. If she had known school would be this terrifying, this traumatic, she wouldn't have begged her father to let her go to Hogwarts; to let her leave home.

So caught up in thoughts was she, that she failed to notice a pair of gentle yet strong arms pull her into a sitting position.

Draco wrapped his arms protectively around his sobbing friend as he tucked her head under his chin, rocking her back and forth in hopes of comforting her. The sobs soon died off completely as Joan's frame went lax, falling into a deep slumber. The previous excitement and accumulated lack of sleep must have finally kicked in.

Draco continued to hold her as he contemplated his next course of action.

All of this started to happen ever since Joan associated herself with that bloody git Potter. That bothersome boy who lived obviously liked her far more than a friend – well, not if he could help it. That boy was having a negative influence on Joan, and he didn't mean socially. He would use any if not all means necessary to keep Potter away from Joan, no matter the consequences.

This, he swore to upon the Malfoy name.


	8. Chapter 7A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thanks for all the kudos! Hope you continue to enjoy this story.

**Chapter 7**

 

The next few days were not too good for Harry Potter. Though he got overwhelming support from his own House, it seemed that all the other Houses were very much determined to put him down. Slytherin’s actions like jeering him as he walked by were not unusual, but Hufflepuffs refusing to help him out when he couldn’t understand a particular Herbology question in class really stung.

In fact, this whole Triwizard Tournament had ironically enough, divided the school instead of uniting them. With Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff having their own champions and very much barely tolerating each other, the jealousy from the Ravenclaw side did not go unnoticed. The only one somewhat unaffected directly seemed to be Cedric, who was still universally loved by what seemed to be not only all the Houses, but also the other schools-though he occasionally looked bothered when he noticed a fellow schoolmate treat Harry with hostility.

The teachers seemed to have noticed this too, because they spent a great deal of time in each class talking about House unity. Each teacher had their own story to tell and their creative style in convincing the students to unite as one, but it only lasted for the duration of that lesson before someone noticed a Triwizard poster and the hostilities started again. Eventually the number of detentions increased, fights broke out in class and curriculum fell back, halting any ‘House Unity talks’ entirely.

If Harry felt worse more so than usual, it was mostly because the whole school seemed to be blaming him for this strife and rift between them-if he had never been chosen for a Hogwarts champion, all of this would never have happened. Much like a butterfly effect, all it had taken was just that one slip of parchment to fly out of the Goblet of Fire…

And he still wasn’t sure how his name had ended up there. He had been so bothered by it that he had even asked the ghosts if it were possible to astral project, or if he had done it in his sleep, or somehow conjured up enough magic subconsciously from his desire to enter the Tournament to get his name in…all sorts of inane possibilities that were immediately rejected by his friends and his teachers.

Ron was another weird case, as he seemed to be more distant than usual, going off on his own and eating breakfast earlier and earlier. He no longer went to class with them, though he still talked to them if they were at the same level, but it felt rather superficial. To some level, he already suspected that Ron shared some of the enmity that the other Houses shared, especially after Hermione had talked to him…

However, Harry did not feel that confronting Ron would be a good idea, especially if he was wrong…he had considerably fewer friends right now and it would be awful to lose Ron now.

Furthermore, Hermione seemed less and less unfocused around him, especially since she now spent early mornings in the library practicing the curriculum in advance with a particular silver eyed boy from Hufflepuff who was probably the only one crazy enough to help her that early in the morning. Like Joan, Harry was sure that she was also nursing a crush on a transfer…but he kept it to himself, as Hermione had expressly denied it enough times to the rest of the House.

He had thought things could not get worse, but just earlier that morning Snape had showed up for Potions class despite the rumors of a temporary relief teacher, with even more loathing for Harry than ever. He missed no opportunity to pick at Harry and sneer, jeer, or get the Slytherins laughing at him. Eventually, he messed up his potion so badly that he was forced to exit the dungeon, with detention in order to ‘pick up on his slack.’

This seemed to extend to the other Snape that he was considerably fonder of, who he had not gotten to talk to since that night. Slytherin seemed quite determined to protect their champion from the likes of his ‘negative influence’, but he couldn’t help but consider that maybe she might not want to associate with him anymore, especially after the way Professor Snape had blown up at him. Sometimes he would trade a look with her during Potions, but a Slytherin would abruptly pull her away.

It wasn’t like her to care about what they thought, he knew, but after all that had happened…and he knew that she was feeling the exact same way that he was feeling, shunned, confused…and despite constantly being surrounded in a crowd, very much alone. They just didn’t get it.

So when he was yanked out of class for a photo taking session with the other champions, he was almost relieved. There weren’t a lot of problems he could solve now, and he certainly couldn’t expect to get the rest of the school to stop hating on him…but he could handle this.

He had to.

Before he knew it, he was stepping nervously into the small classroom. All of the other champions were inside already, with their respective Headmasters. Bagman greeted him excitedly and Dumbledore smiled at him, but he was really determined to skip past them all together and find Joan.

As if on cue, a scream ensued from the broom cupboard. “DO you know what plagiarism is?! You-”

A bespectacled blonde carrying a notebook hurriedly burst out of the cupboard, looking rather horrified. She caught sight of Harry, and her expression changed immediately.

“Harry!” she laughed half nervously half excited. “Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet.” She gestured towards the cupboard. “Wait inside there, will you?” And before he could blink, she had rushed out of the room. Feeling rather confused and somewhat hestitant, Harry opened the broom cupboard.

A soft gasp escaped his lips.

No amount of preparation would have prepared him for how breathtakingly beautiful Joan looked. She wore a soft fairy blue skirt and a shirt that made her look both simple and elegant, and her colored contact lenses made her eyes positively captivating.

She grinned.

“Hi.”

“H-hey,” managed Harry, sitting across her.

For a moment, he just blinked before awkwardly receiving her hug, which he was not expecting for some reason. But Joan hadn’t seemed to have changed at all…he was worried for nothing, the Slytherins were just being more irritating than usual…

Sitting in the dimly lit corner alone with a beautiful girl, Harry suddenly felt very conscious of himself. He gulped, adjusting his robes slightly as Joan started talking about anything and everything, but he was so distracted that he could barely concentrate on what she was saying.

This was going to be a _long_ interview.

 

~

 

“Relax Hermione, it’s not like he was dragged away by wild animals,” said Ron almost bitterly as entered the Great Hall for lunch. But the brown haired girl still carried a worried look on her face as they sat down.

“Of course I’m worried about Harry, Ron!” said Hermione exasperatedly. “Why aren’t you?! It’s a lot of pressure to be a House Champion! And everyone’s just blaming him for the RIFT even though he didn’t even do anything! And he can’t take the end of year tests either, who knows how he’ll do for his OWLs…”

“Wait,” said Ron as the most important thing he heard dawned upon him. “He doesn’t have to take the end of year tests?!”

Hermione facepalmed.

Just then, Lucas shuffled over, clearly in a bad mood as Pansy Parkinson held on to his hand, looking exaggeratedly shy.

“Hey guys,” said Lucas gruffly, his eyes barely open as he sat next to Hermione. Pansy followed after him, taking a chance to grab his back as she balanced herself to sit down. Hermione’s jaw hung open. Fortunately, Pansy was too preoccupied with clutching on to the silver-eyed boy like glue to say anything demeaning.

“That’s great,” said Ron, dripping with sarcasm. “Are we all best friends with the Slytherins now?”

“Hey, there’s no need to be such a prat,” said Lucas, struggling to reach for a cream puff. “Though ignoring her isn’t exactly working…”

“How about you just sod off,” said Ron rudely, his posture aggressive and challenging.

“Ron,” warned Hermione. “You should apologize to him, that was rather curt-“

“Wow, you’re just having a bad day aren’t you,” said Lucas in a dangerously low whisper. He pushed Pansy off him in one swift motion, which surprised the Slytherin girl as she narrowly avoided hitting her head on the table. “But I’m not going to let you take it out on me for no reason. You want a fight, you got one.”

For a moment Ron did look rather apologetic-and probably felt that way too, from the shame on his face. Weasleys were not brought up to be condescending or arrogant. But he seemed to think better of his impulse, because yes, he _was_ having a bad day.

The Gryffindors were instantly alert.

1 minute later, the table was screaming, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” 2 minutes, and the whole Great Hall were screaming along as well. Ron drew out his weapon of choice…

And a great silence fell over the school as the fight begun.

 

~

 

Joan patted Harry’s messy hair bemusedly as the angry boy fussed about the reporter who had asked both very leading and inappropriate questions, and then decided to come up with her own convenient answers.

He had been quite defensive about the whole thing, especially about any insinuation that he, the ‘Boy Who Lived’ and she, the loud and crude ‘Slytherin Princess’ had overcome the Goblet of Fire’s defenses with the _power of love_ and entered the Triwizard Tournament as a special _romantic gesture_.

Unfortunately, there were actually people who would believe it…especially with all the forced pictures that Rita Skeeter had taken of them, almost missing the other champions completely. There was no doubt in her mind that they would somehow end up as the feature…but well, she mused, it could have been a lot worse.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, realizing he had gotten quite carried away. They walked side by side to the Owlery, as Joan had been coerced into helping Malfoy deliver a mail while he was still in class. “How’ve…you been?”

This hesitation had struck him halfway, when he realized that he still didn’t know why they hadn’t been able to talk over the past few days-she was hardly ever alone, and while she was making it quite clear that she wasn’t upset with him or anything, he still felt there was something wrong.

She shrugged a little uncertainly, as if having read his mind.

“I’m good.” Had he not hesitated, he would have noticed the momentary shudder. She put on a big smile and pretended to stubble up the spiral staircase. After much struggling and laughing, they made it to the Owlery tower.

As Joan went to settle the post, Harry was surprised to find he had received another post so soon. His hopes lit up at the thought of it being Sirius, dissuaded or not from coming…but then he saw the envelope.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, in best imitation of Ron. It was oddly appropriate for this moment. He took out the letter, predictably from Sirius, and read it.

Harry’s heart sank the more he read Sirius’ letter, with a godfatherly teasing (he had seen right through his lame attempt to dissuade him from worrying) and then the fact that he was _coming to Hogwarts…_ Trepidation sunk in like a stone falling down a well, pushing through any possible reasons not to worry and anything he could do to prevent this from happening…

“Who’s that from?” she inquired curiously, almost leaning over him to peek. Harry hurriedly pulled the letter away from her prying eyes-it was going to be complicated explaining how his renowned mass-murderer Godfather was writing to him after escaping from prison.

 “Harry…” she begun, a mischievous smile on her face. Her stance was almost predatory, as if about to pounce on him.

And as much as he’d probably have been okay with that, Joan could _not_ see that letter.

“My mail…”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been intercepted.” Which was the truth, technically…not what she wanted to know, but certainly true and enough to distract her for the moment. Then again, when he finished saying it out loud it sunk in-exactly how bad the situation was going to be for Sirius. He grimaced.

“It doesn’t _look_ intercepted,” offered Joan, snatching the envelope and examining it carefully.

“It’s this particular crease mark,” Harry pointed out, still feeling quite anxious. “Dobby showed it to me, when he returned all my letters. It’s what happens when you intercept an owl’s mail in midflight.”

Joan frowned, folding her arms over her chest. “But who could have done it?”

Harry grimaced. Who indeed?

~

Poised fingers moved disturbingly quickly in steady, practiced motions until the arena was set. The crowd was in anticipation as Lucas’s eyes narrowed, a clear focus reflecting in them. Ron swallowed nervously, his mind running wild with possible movements his opponent could make…

“Checkmate,” declared Lucas, moving his knight to E3.

“What?!” howled Ron. But it was true-he had been so focused on his opponent’s queen that he had totally neglected the other pieces. They had both gone on an offensive approach, and Ron would have had his king in two moves…

Had being the operative word.

The crowd went wild with appreciation. Lucas reveled in it, a casual smirk on his face. And before long, he was buried in that crowd of congratulations and mostly girls, especially Ravenclaw. Not even a Ravenclaw had beaten Ron in Wizard Chess before.

Hermione had sneaked out after that, feeling somewhat awkward. 5 minutes later, she was in the library. 2 minutes after that, Viktor Krum had awkwardly sat across her, and she’d suddenly wished that his fangirls were around.

…But they had talked for hours.

He was a sweet guy. A little older, but despite his fame and popularity with girls, actually quite shy. They had exchanged numbers and friendly goodbyes after he had to leave, for Triwizard preparations his Headmaster had arranged for him. Hermione had smiled at that. That was discipline and focus, like Lucas had said…

Ugh. She felt so stupid. She had quite blatantly refused to accept that Lucas was not what she thought he was…he had too much of a wild, rebellious streak to be a studious bookworm like she was. And just like her, she had assumed that he would not be terribly popular or liked by the opposite sex. Clearly, she had been mistaken.

In fact, somehow Lucas had managed to turn himself from the isolated, dangerous outsider to a popular frat boy in a matter of weeks. Maybe it had come from hanging around her, but Lucas’ confidence seemed to have grown in leaps and bounds when it came to interacting with the students around him.

Maybe it hadn’t.

Speaking of the devil, the boy stumbled into the library, still looking quite high. He had a stupid smile on his face, which made her feel even angrier somehow.

 

“Hi,” said Hermione icily, to an oblivious Lucas. “You spent 4 hours on a chess match?”

“Ron wanted two out of three,” he shrugged sheepishly. “I lost. Where’d you go? I was looking around for you.”

Oh _now_ he noticed she was gone.

“I have better things to do than watch you boys go at your stupid chess match,” muttered Hermione hotly, turning her attention to her book.

Lucas folded his arms, starting to catch on that something was quite wrong. “Was that Viktor Krum who just left? The same guy who we’ve been making fun of for weeks?”

“Making fun of people isn’t funny.”

“You’re the one who said he could use a nose job and that he slouches so much that he looks worse than the bendy-chair in the garden,” countered Lucas. “What’s going on with you?”

Logic kicked her in the face at that moment, like icy water splashing all over her. She was acting like a prat, and he hadn’t done anything other than be himself. It was confusing, frustrating and she wasn’t used to dealing with these kinds of feelings at all. She had let the others teasing get to her-there was nothing to be jealous about, they were just friends.

“I-I’m,” struggled Hermione. “Sorry. I’m just not having a good day.” She smiled a little sadly. “Viktor’s actually pretty nice. We should stop making fun of him.”

“Yeah, we should,” agreed Lucas, looking quite relieved that they weren’t about to fight. “…Hey, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have done what I did with Ron. Made you worried for nothing.” He shrugged. “We’re kinda friends now, so at least-“

“That’s great.” She got up, heading for the exit. She really needed to take some time away from him.  “I’ll see you later.”

“Hermione?”

But she was already out the door.

~

The room was still and silent, save for the soft snores from the occupants who were tucked under their covers, fast asleep. The room was pitch black, the only source of light being the thin sliver that peaked out coquettishly between door and floor. On the bed closet to the door lay Lucas, his piercing silver eyes the only other colour in the obscene blackness.

This was the problem with staying underground in the burrows. When it day, you couldn’t tell. When it was night… well, you couldn’t tell either.

With his arms propped underneath his head, Lucas turned away from the ceiling to face the door, wide-awake. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t sleep – too many things plagued his thoughts.

Firstly, Hermione had been acting strange as of late, they seemed to have grown distant ever since he started becoming more social. True, she could be jealous of his sudden positive popularity (unlike that of Joan’s) but wasn’t that what she wanted? For him to make friends? Secondly, what was with her and her sudden friendliness with Vicktor Krum? Lucas frowned and with a barely audible groan, turning over face first into his pillow.

He would never understand girls.

Lastly, he was a little excited about the Tri-wizard tournament. The first round would be commencing in two days and a small part of him wanted to see how professional and skilled Hogwarts students could be against the other famed schools. On top of that, Harry and Joan were competing. He didn’t spare much thought on the Slytherin, but Harry on the other hand, was different. The boy was the second person in Hogwarts that offered him kindness and friendship.

He was a good kid.

Lucas was startled from his thoughts when he heard a soft hissing which steadily grew louder as it drew closer. Looking down at the ground, he noticed a shadow come into view just beyond the room door. The hissing continued and the shadow didn’t budge. The Hufflepuff worried his lower lip.

How he wished he had his wand back.

Lucas crept silently to the door, turned the knob and opened the door just a crack. He looked down.

Before him was a small and charming snake with silver-moon scales that gleamed in the light, and deep emerald green eyes. In its mouth it held an envelope, its front fangs having penetrated the material to grip it. It continued to hiss at Lucas but not in a threatening manner. It was rather docile.

Lucas glanced left and right down the corridors, making sure no one was around, before bending down to accept the letter. He read its contents slowly. He made a mental note to thank the writer for using simple words.

_Hufflepuff,_

_I’m sure you’re wondering how Nagi found your room. He’s an intelligent creature, isn’t he?_

_Normally, I don’t waste time on your sort of lot so **HI LUCAS!I** ’m going to make this as brief and clear as possible for your tiny noggin to comprehend._

_Come to the Slytherin common room. **YAY! SLUMBER PARTY!** No dallying._

_Oh, and please take Nagi with you and no funny business. If he gets hurt, Joan might get pretty upset and I might just make your life a lot harder. **IGNORE HIM LUCAS, HE’S A PRAT :P**_

_P.S_

_I have your wand. **HE’S LYING! >(**_

_Draco Malfoy_

 

Lucas sighed and briskly made his way out of the burrows and straight towards the dungeons.

Seriously, what was it with Slytherins and blackmail?

 

~

 

In the Slytherin common room, Joan was busying herself at a makeshift table, magically clearing potion residue and levitating the huge and oddly-shaped beakers, apparatus’ and jars of ingredients back into a tiny black sack. At her sides, Crabbe and Goyle assisted her in her task, levitating stacks upon stacks of reference books back to their respective shelves.

Blaise and Theodore were at said shelves; the later perched on a ladder as he read from a large maroon volume in his hands with a look of pure fascination plastered all over his face. At the ladder’s base stood the tall and dark Slytherin, scanning over book titles and occasionally picking out one to skim through. On the other shelf opposite, was Daphne Greengrass who too seemed preoccupied in a similar fashion.

At the far corner of the room, the Carrow twins were busy casting spells, the tiny sparks and occasional smoking from their wands a clear indication of practice.

Even Draco seemed distracted, having his nose buried deep into a thick black book as he lounged on a couch. His face donned an irritated expression, clearly peeved and distracted as he did his best to ignore the cooing and doting of Pansy as she clung onto his arm, cuddling up next to him in an overly affectionate manner.

Everyone, save Pansy, seemed to be busy and that was how Lucas found them when he stumbled into the common room. At that moment, all eyes looked up from their current tasks to stare at the newcomer momentarily, before going back to their tasks at hand – everyone save Joan Snape who left the last bit of cleaning to Crabbe and Goyle as she approached the guarded male.

“Lucas, you’re just in time!” she beamed excitedly. “Did you bring Nagi with you?”

“Eh.”

On cue, the silver reptilian emerged from under Lucas’ robes at the hood area and slithered onto Joan’s happily outstretched hand. Joan cooed at the snake as she rubbed their ‘noses’ together, before her lips made contact with Nagi’s tongue in what Lucas assumed to be a kiss.

“What, a dragon not enough for you?” Lucas said gruffly, folding his arms.

Joan laughed, setting Nagi comfortably around her neck before taking the stoic boy’s hand and leading him to the couch opposite the one Draco and Pansy sat on.

“Nah. Nagi’s my real pet. Cerberus belongs to Professor Snape, but I usually ride him or for the both of us. Papa doesn’t exactly fancy steering, so he usually sits back and lets me do all the work. The problem with Cerberus is that he’s so temperamental and strong that taking the reigns often involves you standing up for the whole trip.”

Lucas couldn’t help but crack a slight grin from Joan’s slip-up.

“Papa?” He teased. Joan punched him lightly in the arm.

“Oh, shush! Yeah, he doesn’t like it either… makes me address him as ‘father’ or ‘professor’ whenever we’re out.” She grinned cheekily. “But papa is better than daddy any day, don’t you agree?”

The two laughed, both picturing the disgruntled face of a certain Potions master in association to the term ‘daddy’. Lucas figured that if that really happened, his respect for said man would probably go down, but in a comical way of course.

“So… why’s everyone so busy?” Lucas asked casually. Joan winked at him.

“You’ll see! Wait right here while I go get your wand!”

Lucas’ eyes brightened at the prospect of being reunited with his magical companion, having never realized how much he actually missed it. As he adverted his gaze from the raven-haired girl as she bounded down the stairs, Lucas found himself staring at the odd and clearly mismatched couple on the couch. On one hand, he was thoroughly relieved to be rid of the clingy and annoying Parkinson; on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the blonde.

“Jealous, Hufflepuff?”

Ok, not really.

“Hardly,” he ignored the forced smirk aimed his way from Malfoy, who looked to be struggling with an inner battled of turmoil. The blonde couldn’t be more obvious in hiding his discomfort and displeasure.

“Draco and Pansy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g ~” sang the Carrow twins from their corner of the room. They giggled when Draco shot them a dirty look.

“And when did _that_ happen?” asked Lucas, smirking as he wondered over this newfound development.

“This evening.”

Blaise plopped himself down next to the brunette, an amused grin on his lips. Draco glared at him as he folded his arms casually as if in silent challenge. No way was he going to pass up an opportunity to tease his friend.

“Draco received a letter from his father regarding his lineage. Apparently, Malfoys don’t waste time in pairing up their children with other purebloods. Isn’t that sweet, Draco? Now you won’t have to worry about other witches thinking you are a total and utter prat and _beewing aww awone…”_

Blaise laughed good-naturedly when he dodged a cushion his best friend had thrown at him. Poor Draco; if he hadn’t looked like he hated his current situation before, he certainly did now.

Daphne rolled her eyes, snapping her book shut.

“Salazer, you guys are _soooooo_ mature,” she drawled sarcastically.

“Oh, shut up, Daphne! What would you know? Draco and I will be married someday and we’re perfectly happy and in love with each other now! Isn’t that right, Drakey?” Pansy cooed up at her fiancé, fluttering her eyelashes in what she assumed to be a charming fashion that only left Draco’s stomach feeling like he had just drank a badly prepared potion. So, the only sound he could manage was a perturbed grunt.

Up the ladder, Theodre looked somewhat crest-fallen at the public display of Pansy’s affection, but otherwise began his descent down the ladder as Crabbe and Goyle helped steady it.

Lucas continued to study the new Slytherin couple in distaste. Everything about them looked _so damn wrong it hurt_. Everyone, or at least he thought it was everyone, knew the obvious affection and attraction Malfoy had towards Joan. Hell, you’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not pick up the huge neon-colored display of hints the blonde had so carelessly thrown all over the place.

So distracted was he, that Lucas failed to notice Joan bound up the stairs and run right up to him. She thrust his wand right up at him, making him go slightly cross-eyed.

“DENG DENG DENG!! HERE YOU GO ~”

Lucas tentatively accepted his wand, pocketing it as he gazed cautiously at the grinning Snape. Right… he got summoned by a snake, was sitting smack in the middle of a mass Slytherin meeting, and he got his wand back without much fuss.

No way he was going to be let off this easily.

He was dealing with Slytherins after all.

Catching on to the brunette’s suspicions, Joan sighed, dropping the act and donning a serious expression as she motioned him to stand. Lucas cautiously did as instructed, noticing the room and gone eerily silent as he did so.

“First, I would like to apologise – she held up her hand to silence the surprised boy- because my actions and threats were uncalled for and shameful. I’m sure you had your reasons and I’m sorry for holding onto your wand for so long… I know how much that must have compromised you.”

Lucas snorted. No shit.

“Don’t worry, I won’t threaten you with Dumbledore for anything or any reason because I think we both agree snitchers aren’t the best of friends to have around. You may not like me anymore but that’s ok. Just wanted to let you know I’m still open to friendship if you ever find it in yourself to forgive me…”

She bowed her head, refusing to look up.

“I know I’ve been terrible… but please, believe me when I say I don’t know why. If I do cause any form of harm upon you, I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t tell you exactly what’s wrong with me but… but just know that I’m not a bad person. I’m not…”

Lucas continued to stare down at Joan, the atmosphere of the room having gone terribly suffocating by the increased tension. Lucas’ silver eyes swam with a mixture of emotions: anger, confusion, disgust, hate, thoughtful, mellow and then relenting.

Lucas’ posture relaxed, his broad shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh. He reached out to playfully ruffle Joan’s hair. He pulled back immediately when Joan snapped her head up stare at him in shock. Reading her mind, Lucas smiled a sincere smile.

“Hey, it’s all good.”

It was a typical ‘aw’ moment right there, but then again, Joan was never typical.

“OH MAN. THAT’S GOOD. NOW YOU CAN HELP ME WITH SOMETHING.”

Lucas nearly collapsed by the incredulity of it all. How Blaise and Draco could get used to Joan’s mood swings were beyond him.

Fishing into her robes pocket, Joan held out a small, slim vial with a pale crimson liquid inside. The concoction seemed rather dilute and way too clear to be a potion and on top of that, the liquid was still, void of magical ‘life’ and substance. Lucas continued to scrutinize the potion, taking it and turning it this way and that as Joan sighed tiredly.

“No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get the perfect end product. Any idea why?”

Lucas shrugged. He was no potions whiz and besides, wasn’t Joan Snape’s daughter? If she couldn’t get it right, what made her think he of all people could?

“Uncork it and tell me what you smell.”

Not seeing where Joan was going with this, Lucas carefully uncorked the vial and brought it up to his nose. He took a quick whiff and narrowed his eyes in concentration.

“Serpent venom, Tongue of dog, Blood of Thestral…” Lucas looked up to gaze at Joan suspiciously but at the girl’s inquisitive gaze, he decided to drop it and continue.

“Song of twins, Hell’s blaze, tenacious trickery - hold up, you’re missing… “

“Asmodeus’ Calling.” They said in unison.

Joan sighed and slumped on the couch next to Lucas, pouting in frustration.

“Exactly. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get the spell right. After every failed casting, the potion gets ruined. This is the 5th one I brewed today and I dare not touch it least I ruin it again.”

“Is that why everyone’s so diligent all of a sudden? Trying to get the spell right?” Luke gestured towards the other Slytherins.

“Yup! Thing is, it’s really advanced magic-“

“No shit, Joan!” Lucas interrupted, concern shown clearly from his voice.

“This is really dark stuff! Loki’s Daybreak is really dangerous and unstable especially if the consumer is an inexperienced witch or wizard! There’s a reason why this potion’s banned from the syllabus! No bloody way am I going to let you consume this!”

Joan lowered her gaze.

“… You didn’t see the dragons, Lucas. All those dragons, even Cerberus- That’s the first round, Lucas! They’re pitting Harry and me, 4th years, against temperamental, untamable beasts!”

Lucas stared at the girl in complete shock, body having gone numb with dread. He watched as Joan adverted her gaze away from him as she struggled to contain her fear. It was then that Lucas understood her desperation for this particular potion. The Slytherin Princess couldn’t bring herself to harm her pet (if she so happened to be tasked to do so) and all of their foundation for spells weren’t that strong yet, so this was probably the only way…

Lucas sighed heavily. He knew he was giving in.

“But, Joan… This is really, really dark ma-“

“And that’s why you’re going to help me!” A sudden determination overtaking her.

“Wait, what now?”

“That morning when you fought those boys, the day that I took your wand; that was some advanced sorcery. I saw your magic and I know what you’re capable of, Lucas. Dark magic or not, that’s still something far more advanced than what us 4th years learn or know.”

Joan wrapped her hands tightly around the hand Lucas used to clutch at the vial. The action was reassuring and pleading all the same. She looked up at him in pure faith.

“If it’s anyone who can help me, it’s you, please…”

She lowered her gaze once more.

“I don’t want to die, Lucas.” Joan said softly, sadness radiating off her in waves.

The seconds ticked by as Lucas struggled for a response. However, when Joan looked up at him beseechingly and deep crimson met piercing silver, Lucas already knew his answer. He smirked in confidence, as he took out his wand and twirled it between his fingers.

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”


	9. Chapter 8

The dreaded day had arrived-the new Daily Prophet for the week.

The piece on the Triwizard Tournament was as every bit as bad as Harry had anticipated, based on how well the interview had gone for him-it had somehow become a very colored, fictitious story on him with barely any mention of the other champions, nor had their photos been featured. This, you can imagine, had earned him even more hostility since not only did his own school hate him-but other schools now did as well.

If there was one consolation about the disaster of the article, it was that Rita Skeeter had not paired he and Joan together, despite what she had said-she took a quote from Colin Creevey, instead. Of course, when Hermione learnt that she was the subject in question, she didn’t take it too well either, giving him a new source of grief.

Still, if Rita had mentioned Joan instead, life would have been considerably worse for him (although it already felt like it couldn’t be, Harry sighed) due to prodding from both Slytherin and his House, AND Snape. There was no way he would get anywhere near Joan after that, let alone talk to her.

So on the Saturday before the first task, when all the students in 3rd year and above were permitted to visit Hogsmeade, the boy didn't need too much persuasion when Hermione suggested they get away from the castle a bit.   
  
But he didn't feel particularly reassured that things would get better. Maybe he had just hoped for the whole Daily Prophet article matter to die down with the school, but even on his way down the castle other houses jeered at him and shot him angry or resentful looks. Moreover, he couldn't quite seem to hold a normal conversation with Ron, who seemed quite on the edge of losing his superficial tone of not-being-jealous.

Harry obviously felt he had no reason to be jealous at all, but he found it rather hard to point out. Feeling quite aggravated, he slipped around a corner and put on his Invisibility Cloak, much to Hermione's chagrin. She couldn't find Lucas either, which made her even more disappointed.   
  
It was hard to blame her. Lucas had been keeping his distance since her outburst in the library. Moreover, the week had been unhelpfully hectic, both with schoolwork and dealing with the other Houses-all Harry wanted to do was sit with his friends in the pub and relax, but he couldn't even do that in peace. And it was affecting his friends as well.   
  
They entered Tom's pub, Hermione feeling a little wary of all the initial stares she was getting. Fortunately, most of them were adults who weren't particularly interested in school drama, and they turned away a moment later. Relieved, the group of friends found an empty table and sat down. Hermione drew the attention of a waiter with an impatient wave.   
  
"Hey, its you guys."

It was Lucas. Mentally, Hermione's jaw had hit the floor. He grinned uncharacteristically at them as he strode over. He looked like a new man altogether, without any of his usual thick clothing. Instead, he was sporting a singlet that showed off his toned arms, and an apron around tight jeans. Harry literally jumped off the seat moments before Lucas sat on him.

H-hey,” she waved back hurriedly. She hadn’t been staring, but she hadn’t been doing anything either. “It’s you.”

“Um, yes.” He laughed. “It’s me. I thought you guys might come here.” He fist bumped Ron, who did it a little awkwardly but sincerely.

“You’re working here?” said Ron excitedly. “How are you doing it? How much are they paying you?”

“Relax, man. Tom’s…a friend,” he said after a moment of consideration. “I just help him clean up after hours, but since today’s a holiday, so the speak…”

“Hey!” said a cheerful voice. Joan threw herself at the table, much to Lucas’ horror, and grabbed seats for all of them to sit together. Moments later, she was followed by Malfoy and Blaise, who sat down with her. Harry was vaguely reminded of how it felt like to see Malfoy with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and briefly wondered if Joan had become the new ‘gang leader’ or something.

For a while there, they sat and laughed while talking about school things, like the Triwizard Tournament, S.P.E.W, events of the past few days, studies…Harry listened absently as his friends engaged actively in the conversation.  
How he wished he could have been there too, open to everyone and laughing along as well, having nothing to worry about other than studies. Instead he was under an invisibility cloak in a damp corner of a bar, cautiously sipping Butterbeer before anyone noticed that the cup was missing from the table, and hiding from pretty much what felt like the entire school divided in a rift that he was somehow held responsible for.

The article had just made things worse…as he watched Joan, he wondered how she was doing, going through pretty much the same things as he were. But things between them were starting to feel very different, and maybe-it was crazy-but maybe Snape had something. Ever since Joan had entered his life, it was nothing but heartache for her. Maybe it would have been better if she had never met him.

And better for Ron, too. He was clearly unhappy about the Triwizard Tournament, and Lucas talking about it wasn’t helping him.

"Oh, and I invited Victor to join us," said Hermione in her best as-a-matter-of-factly voice. She had been saving this particular tidbit in the event that Ron was still feeling particularly hostile towards Harry, and it worked like a charm.

"Y-you invited Victor. Krum," said Ron slowly, his eyes bogging out of his face.

"Yeah, we were talking in the library, he-"

"You invited Victor Krum?" repeated Ron incredulously, and from his tone she might as well have announced that she was pregnant and getting married.

"He's really quite sweet, and actually rather ordinary..." she laughed, and she could hear Harry chuckle under the cloak as well, "oh Ron, just talk to him, it's not a big deal..."

Ron may have wanted to rebut, but Victor Krum walked in that moment, slouching and looking restless. His face lit up upon seeing Hermione, but somewhat went back to looking stony faced when he realized she was sitting with a rather big group of friends.   
  
And the chattering continued, albeit awkwardly. Ron was struggling to form a coherent sentence around Krum, probably gathering the courage to ask the world-class Bulgarian seeker for his autograph. Malfoy would stare contemptuously at Hermione while Krum would stare contemptuously at Lucas, both looking rather stony faced and clearly preferred to be in a different seating position then the one they were in now.

The two aforementioned hardly noticed, since Lucas was teasing her about the article and she was doing her best to dissuade him from thinking so. Joan was rather actively engaged with Blaise in conversation, though she occasionally nudged Malfoy and even accused him of staring at Hermione like a lovesick goon, to which he promptly blanched.   
  
Poor Harry continued to sit in the corner, feeling rather out of place and rather tempted to just take off the Cloak and talk to everyone, even Malfoy. Though he was sitting in a crowded, noisy area, he couldn't help but feel his surroundings grow gradually quiet and lonelier. He picked up his Butterbeer and sipped it a little sadly, the only thing giving him comfort about now.  
  
Bad move.  
  
"Hermione," warned Lucas, his hand moving protectively past her side. He registered the others. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah." Joan had her wand out, and traded a look that clearly said to put their conversations aside for the moment. The others blinked confusedly, unsure of what was going on as Joan stood up from her chair.

"Really," said Hermione weakly, "I don't think that’s necessary..." It would take her another moment to realize that the two transfer students had noticed Harry, but by then it was too late.   
  
Harry had clearly felt the hostility suddenly radiating from the table he was sitting near to, and unfortunately, instinct told him to put down the Butterbeer before moving.   
  
"Flipendo MAXIMA-"  
  
Fortunately for him, Hermione had already shoved Joan at the same time, and the huge Knockback Jinx shot past him, rebounded across the wall and promptly hit Malfoy. The blonde toppled slowly, his chair anticlimactically hanging for a moment before he fell over, quite dazed.

Harry seized the opportunity to sneak out of the pub, leaving everyone else in there confused and Malfoy slightly injured. It was getting too risky staying there a moment later, and he had not been enjoying himself anyway. He pushed through the door angrily, and promptly crashed into Hagrid.

Or more accurately, dash out at full force and bounce off the half giant anyway. Harry hit the snow roughly, his Cloak falling off.

“Oww.”

Mad-Eye Moody was next to him, and he grinned. Or at least, as close to a grin as he could get-it was scary either way. Hagrid was beaming as well-they looked like teenagers with something they were tremendously excited about. This made Harry nervous, of course.

“Perfect timing, Potter,” said Moody Is Miss Snape with you? There’s something you should know…”

“Huh?”  
  
\----  
  
Harry sighed internally. When they had agreed to meet later that night to see what Hagrid had for them, he'd really pictured things going quite differently. Especially in relation to the company.  
  
Now instead of an exciting, somewhat romantic trip down in the middle of the night (with the thrill of breaking the rules), Harry was forced to share the cloak with a particular one other person that he couldn't stand.   
  
"Now isn't this nice?" said Joan cheerfully. She was smack in the middle of the two boys, taking their left and right. Harry and Malfoy traded glares, and agreed on the only natural response, which was to grunt out an agreement while the girl went on, completely oblivious to the animosity she was standing between.   
  
"This cloak is amazing, Harry," she raved as they struggled to walk down the staircase without falling. "Really. You could not wear anything under this."  
  
Harry tried not to show what he was clearly thinking about at that moment as he immediately turned away from Joan, an action that the Slytherin blonde on her left had also unconsciously mimicked.   
  
"Joan, this is actually rather difficult. It's not too late to send Malfoy back to the Common Room..." commented Harry hopefully.   
"I'm not letting you anywhere alone with her, Potter," spat Malfoy indignantly. "And keep your hands to yourself, you're standing too close."

"There are three of us under a one man cloak, of course we're standing too close," shot back Harry, irritated. "And get your grubby paws off the sides of my Cloak, Malfoy, and then we'll talk."

"Aww, you guys get along so well!" Joan happily yanked them both by the necks, pulling them into an awkward hug. Harry's face was so close to Malfoy he could practically feel the blonde's teeth grit.   
  
Much of this banter and Joan's enthusiasm over being invisible continued as the unusual trio stumbled through Hogwarts castle, occasionally causing an accident or having to stand still for a while to convince someone they had bumped against that they were just imagining things. Harry briefly wondered how on Earth they were going to make it to Hagrid's Hut-it was almost midnight...  
  
But they somehow made it, just in time to see Hagrid stroll into the Forbidden Forest with Madame Maxime. Harry grinned-if anyone was to get together with Hagrid, huge as he was, it would be someone equally huge. Hagrid was a bit gruff and tactless, but it seemed to be working out for him well as Madame Maxime cooed next to the slightly bigger half giant while they trudged through the Forbidden Forest. He traded a look with Joan, who sent him an approving smile back. And suddenly he felt very confident with whatever it was they were confronting.   
  
If anything could make his mood even better than it already was, it was the perpetually frightened look on Malfoy's face as they entered the Forbidden Forest. Harry couldn't help but let out an unsympathetic snigger from under the cloak. The last time Malfoy had been here back in their first year had not been a pleasant experience for either of them-they had stumbled on the dead carcass of a unicorn with Voldemort drinking its blood, and the Dark Wizard had almost jumped them both. He had been frightened too-but after a few similar experiences each year, he was hardly terrified of that one, while Malfoy was still considerably terrified.  
  
Though, Harry had to admit, the Forbidden Forest was always an omen for bad luck. Voldemort, Spiders, Dementors...  
  
Which meant...  
  
The night sky lit up in a dangerous orange-red color, and Harry groaned. This was starting to feel like one of Hagrid's hairbrained schemes, which meant spiders chasing them out of the woods...they were also starting to get rather deep into the Forbidden Forest, that he couldn't see the castle or lake even from here...he couldn't afford to miss the meeting with Sirius, especially if there was a chance that his Godfather would be intercepted...  
  
"You okay?" asked Joan, nudging his side. He shot her a reassuring, half-hearted smile.  
"Just nervous." And she traded another heart wrenching, warm smile with him, the kind that said she knew exactly how he was feeling. How was she doing that to him?  
  
Malfoy was about to unleash a jeer, but Joan hit him in the face before he could 'release his negativity.' The blonde scowled as they caught up to Hagrid, reaching the opening he was bringing them too.  
  
And a deafening, ear-piercing roar broke through the night's silence.   
  
Dragons, realized the three of them. Joan looked intrigued, but Harry and Malfoy mostly felt like holding on to something and running away. Of course, when they had both noticed the similar fear they were experiencing, they manned up instantly with forced determination.  
  
There were four fully-grown, enormous; vicious looking dragons each trapped in an enclosure fenced with thick wood-essentially a huge cage. The cage didn't seem to be too effective, though, because the dragons were pounding against its walls and shattering them almost as fast as the wizards around them were repairing it. The situation seemed quite dire for the huge crowd of wizards, who numbered at least 30.   
  
"Keep back, Hagrid!" yelled a red headed boy, who Harry recognized as Charlie Weasley. The wizards tried in vain to subdue the dragons, their spells only making them more aggravated. The tamer dragons were somewhat kept down, but the biggest dragon, reddish-black and lizard-like, was thrashing about like no tomorrow… Joan let out a gasp.   
  
"Cerberus!"

"Shh!" Joan had been so shocked that she had forgotten she was under the Cloak, and both boys had to grab her before she ran out from under it.

The great beast was roaring and struggling like no tomorrow, its neck being held still by tough reigns as one of the tamers tried to place some sort of large ruby in the center of its head. The dragon resisted with a violent jerk of its head, resulting in the tamers picking themselves back up and attempting the process once more. Their efforts seemed in vain.

"That's Cerberus?!" exclaimed Malfoy, who had not quite gotten a close up of the dragon the first time he had seen it, since breaking into the Great Hall those months back.

"Scared, Malfoy?" teased Harry.  
"Shut it, Potter," retorted Malfoy. Harry noticed he hadn't exactly rebutted his statement, though.  
  
"But why did they cage him?! And what’s with that jewel?! MY FATHER..." she begun, and Harry stopped her both from giving away their position and doing her perfect Malfoy imitation. The blonde was not amused, of course.   
  
And neither was Joan.   
  
"Is Dumbledore responsible for this?" demanded Joan, sounding seriously angry. "They can't do this!" Before Harry could say anything about it, she was dragging the two boys dangerously close to the dragons.  
  
Harry didn't quite get what she had in mind. Maybe she was going to go berserk on Hagrid, who she had entrusted the care of Cerberus too. But then again, over 30 wizards who were trained to restrain dragons surrounded them; Joan wouldn't be that reckless...  
  
"Joan," said Malfoy softly, stopping her from walking too close to the large group. "This...look, we can go back to the castle and confront the old fart-"  
"Then he'll know that we've seen the dragons, Malfoy," interjected Harry.  
“So wh-“

But the enclosure had suddenly gone quiet, with the lone sound of Cerberus’ roar. It was a different type of roar somehow, and the rest of the dragons stopped moving immediately. Almost like…a call.

Two big, sapphire eyes turned to face the three invisible students, as if knowing exactly where they were.

Mostly because they did.

“Uh oh,” said Joan, slowly pushing the boys back.   
“What is it?”

The dragon snorted, and broke free of all its restraints in one swift motion. The tamers were so taken aback that some of them fell to the floor. The large ruby rolled to the side.

“Cerberus caught my scent. It’s a motherly instinct thing – she can smell me and track me down from a mile away.” She gestured in the opposite direction. “I think we need to get away now.”

“Wait, Cerberus has female instincts?” He couldn’t have heard that right.   
“Of course? She be woman, yo.”  
“But you address Cerberus as HIM!” said Malfoy loudly, almost shrieking as the dragon started to kick up speed.   
“That’s because she’s such a MAN,” she chuckled.

Neither of the boys shared her amusement as her rampaging dragon, followed swiftly behind by 30 dragon tamers, began charging towards them furiously.

“Run!”

The three students made a mad dash back into the forest, the dragon and its pursuers catching up steadily. Even though all three had considerable athletic ability, they were considerably impaired by the constraints of the Cloak.

Dragons are not particularly competent runners despite their strong legs, and the Forbidden Forest underbrush was too thick for Cerberus to fly after the trio. Still, a dragon is still a Dragon and its powerful legs carried it considerably longer and further distances than the three of them could hope to step.

“She’s catching up!” said Malfoy in what sounded very much between a squeal and a scream.

Harry felt panic rising to his chest as well. The consequences for getting caught would be disastrous. All seemed hopeless, until Harry spotted a certain someone retreating into the shadows. And in that split second, he came to make a crucial decision that he would play back in his head hours later, wondering if it was a decision he would regret in the days ahead.  
  
He threw the Invisibility Cloak on Karkaroff.   
  
The Bulgarian Headmaster, who had been lurking around for an opportunity to warn his champion in advance, was momentarily blinded by the Cloak, as it remains opaque until it has been placed on. This resulted in him stumbling out from his hiding place momentarily, whilst the three young students dived in, leaving Cerberus to crash straight into Karkaroff and send him flying. Cerberus was stunned by the accident, and moments later captured by the opportunistic wizards.   
  
As Karkaroff recovered, fully visible and quite unprepared to do some explaining, the three sneaked off into the night-with only the uncertain pain of a teenage boy leaving his father's only momento behind.  
  
\-----  
  
When Harry finally sneaked back to the Common Room after sending Joan and Malfoy off, Ron and Hermione were already waiting for him. They had big grins on their faces, completely oblivious to the chaos that had befallen him moments before.

"Nothing happened, guys," he sighed before Hermione could open her mouth. "Really. I'll-"  
Sirius' head popped into the fire, causing the three friends to jump back. "So what's this about a girl, Harry?" he teased with a grin.

Sirius looked younger and healthier, at least a semblance of how Harry had seen him in his parent's photographs. It was good to see him.

The three friends excitedly updated him on what was going on with their lives, and the Triwizard Tournament. Sirius listened attentively, nodding and laughing at all the right places. So much had happened since the school year began.

Sirius frowned at the mention of Joan's Avada Kedavra, and more so when he learnt that the same girl was Harry's object of affection. He almost fell out of the fireplace when he heard that the same girl was Snape's daughter. Needless to say, it was a pretty poor way to endear him to Harry's taste.

"Your father had the same problem," he half joked, half seriously said. "Lily was so out of his league, so different and so very dangerous. You're your father's son, I'm sure you'll share the same success..."

Harry looked very much like he felt otherwise.

"Karkaroff was a Death Eater, did you know? Put many of them in prison after, they weren't too happy..."

Sirius had much to share, and the three listened for almost a good hour as he explained the many issues they were facing. Active Death Eaters, missing people, a possible sabotage of the Triwizard Tournament and indirect attempts to end Harry's life...adding to all the things they were going through in school, Harry was starting very much to feel at an all time low.

"I lost the Cloak," he mumbled. "Karkaroff...he was there, in the Forest."

Harry quickly went through the painful process of explaining what had happened moments ago.

But Sirius' reaction was unexpected, almost completely shocked. It wasn’t exactly what he had expected…maybe a little disappointment, or a look that spoke reassurance...

And then it triggered back in his mind, soaking him like he was standing under a waterfall. Amidst all the confusion, he had forgotten to warn Sirius that someone else had intercepted his mail. Whether or not they knew it was Sirius, someone else knew they had a meeting.

“Sirius!” yelled Harry. But it was too late. As soon as he came, Sirius was yanked out of the chimney, the green flame bursting into air and fading away.

\---

Sirius leapt out of the fireplace, his wand out. If there had been someone ready with a spell, he would never have had a chance in hell, but he couldn’t see anyone. Still, someone had used magic to pull him out.

He should have known better, it was too complacent for him to assume there was a mistake. A mistake like that could end him back up in Azkaban. And he did not want to go back to Azkaban. He quickly exited the abandoned shack, giving a brief scan of the surroundings.

When the adrenaline and fear had worn out after a cautious pacing, Sirius put aside his wand and transformed into his dog form. This wasn't a fight or flight situation. He could walk out of Little Whinging right now with no fear of being stopped, apart from the curious stares of who the large dog belonged to. There was nothing to worry about.

"An Animagus form? Impressive."

Well so much for that.

The voice was young. Confident. And determined. He must have known that he was the dog as well, because he had used a spell to disguise his scent from the enhanced senses the dog form possessed. But Sirius could also tell that he had come alone, which the boy was about to learn was a huge mistake. Sirius slowly turned around, facing the boy who wasn't pointing a wand at him...

Not a professional Auror, that much was for sure. An Auror who recognized him as an Animagus would have had the wand at his back, or taken him down already. Maybe even a Death Eater would have taken a similar precaution. But the boy, for all his knowledge, was certainly careless.

Ignoring him, the dog form began to walk away. There was no fight here. He could get away literally without doing anything, not even having to acknowledge that he was an Animagus.  
  
"I could be mistaken," called out the boy after him. "But I'm sure the Ministry might take some interest if Sirius Black could be found in the Animagus form of a dog."  
  
If a dog could swear, Sirius would have sworn. Loudly.   
  
He transformed back into his human form, a scowl marring his handsome features. "What do you want?"  
  
The kid was about Harry’s age, a little older at the most. This was surprising, but not as much as the silver eyes piercing through his own. That wasn't natural-realized Sirius. Unless they were contact lenses, the boy had to be some kind of half-breed...  
  
"Easy, Sirius." The boy moved into a defensive stance, stepping back into the shadows. "You're just the bait."  
  
Before Sirius could move, loud shouts and screams of excitement broke the night silence. Quick, urgent steps stumbled loudly towards their general direction, accompanied with a persistent sniffing.   
  
Sirius' blood froze.  
  
Snatchers.

He turned back to the boy, about to demand an answer, but the kid was already gone.

 


	10. Chapter 10

** Chapter 10 **

**“May the best wizard triumph! LET THE FINAL FIGHT BEGIN!”**

The crowd roared, flags and banners with the symbols of Gryffindor and Slytherin waving madly in the air. The harsh winter winds rushed past but it wasn’t enough to deter the students of Hogwarts as they cheered for their winners. Wrapped in thick warm clothing with fluffy earmuffs, scarves, coats, gloves and hats, Lucas, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle sat awkwardly with each other. The silence was unnerving; and Lucas had about enough. He stretched out his hand to Blaise who stared at it suspiciously.

“Joan and Harry are friends. You are friends with Joan. Joan is friends with us. You get my drift?”

Crabbe and Goyle looked apprehensive as Draco looked as if he had swallowed something particularly nasty. Blaise remained passive, before doing the impossible. He bumped fists with Lucas. Ron fainted.

\---

Harry and Joan took tentative steps into the arena, hand in hand. At this point, neither of them cared for physical contact or the sly looks Rita Skeeter was giving them in the box seat. They were terrified and needed each other’s support more than ever.

 

However, just before they could take another step forward, the ground rumbled and shook, causing them to nearly loose their footing. Wand in hand, Harry immediately pointed it in the direction where he heard a distinctive roar. Behind a large cave-like structure, emerged Cerberus, her neck chained to the ground a few ways off. Her posture and stance was defensive and aggressive all at the same time, and peeking behind her legs, Harry and Joan knew why.

Behind the large beast sat a large golden egg in a makeshift nest, its surface gleaming in the sunlight. Cerberus, like other dragons, were tasked to protect these eggs with their lives, all of them having been brainwashed into thinking that the eggs were their young. This was also the sole reason why the dragons had to be females and although the idea behind it was cruel, it was the surest way to bring out their untamable protective instincts.

 

“Well, this ought to be easy, right?” Harry muttered, backing away ever so slightly every time Cerberus moved forward. “After all, she sees you as her young, not the egg, and you’re right here-“

 

“Don’t be too confident,” Joan interjected, pointing at the large red ruby set in between Cerberus’ eyes. 

 

“That gem’s been enchanted. So all Cerberus sees is that the egg is me, and that we are the threat.”

 

“So all we have to do is get rid of the gem?”

 

Joan shook her head. “No, we have a time limit Harry. We need all the time we can get to snatch that egg. Once we have it, there’s no need to worry about any form of possible danger. Besides, knocking or destroying the gem… I’m not sure what it could do to Cerberus.”

 

Harry nodded, moving his arm in front of Joan to shield her protectively against the approaching dragon as they backed away slowly. Any sudden movements might just set the temperamental creature off.

 

“I’m assuming you have a plan?”

 

“Yes, and it will distract Cerberus long enough for you to reach the golden egg… **_if_** – she bit her lip- everything goes smoothly.”

 

Harry was just about to ask her what she meant by that, when she quickly grabbed Harry’s wrist and flung him behind a nearby boulder. She stared hard at the shocked boy, holding onto his hand tightly.

 

“No matter what happens, **_stay down_** and **_don’t_** come out until Cerberus’ chain is stretched to the maximum. That should put some distance between her and the egg for you to claim it.”

 

“ _Wait! Joan!”_

Harry scrambled for Joan’s hand but he was too slow. The girl had already run out to stand in the center of the arena, meeting her dragon’s gaze head on. Harry’s mind was reeling. Just what in Merlin’s name did that crazy girl have in mind!? She had already mentioned that the egg was far more valuable to these “mother” dragons than anything else. What could possibly hold their attention long enough and sure enough for Cerberus to not notice him stealing her “baby”?

 

Just then, Harry couldn’t help but recall those animal documentary programmes Dudley usually watched but never really absorbed. Once, there had been a segment about female animals and their natural paternal instincts to their young. He distinctively remembered a female penguin loosing her young and tried to steal the young of another. Harry’s eyes bulged in realization, throat suddenly having gone dry. There was **_no_** **_bloody way_** his friend was seeking suicide… right?

 

\---

  
A sudden silence fell over the crowd as they watched the young Slytherin champion approach the Hungarian Horntail with open arms. She didn’t even have her wand out. They leaned forward in their seats. Severus rose to his feet in concern. What in Salazar did his daughter have in mind?

 

“Cerberus…”

 

She held her ground when the dragon suddenly swung its horned tail out at her, barely missing her in a threatening gesture. Outside, Joan didn’t so much as blink, eyes unwavering, but on the inside, she felt her inner-self collapse is both fear and relief. Hermione gasped as she and the group of boys shot to their feet. Ron gulped and couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper, the urge to faint rising once more. He took back what he said about Harry, glory and all that jazz. This tournament was _insane_!

 

‘Come on, Joans! Now’s not the time to get cold feet!’ Lucas thought, fearful for the girl’s life.

 

Back in the arena, Joan remained still with her hands outstretched. She started to lower herself, but never once breaking eye contact with her beloved dragon. “Cerberus… I’m not going to fight you – she wrapped her hands around a long spike that had dislodged itself from the dragon’s tail – or hurt you – she straightened herself and pressed the tip of the spike at the vein of her wrist – I promise.”

 

She clenched her eyes shut and in one swift motion, cut deeply through her skin from her wrist down to the elbow. In the box seat, Dumbledore and all the professors’ eyes widened in disbelief at the realization of what the girl was going to do. Sure, it wasn’t forbidden, but it was banned for a reason; because most who were desperate enough to pull this stunt, never came back the same again.

 

Joan stuck her arm out to the side and let the thick rivulets of blood dribble down and across her skin into crimson droplets on the uneven earth. She turned and moved in a circular motion, drawing a large circle around her in blood. The self-created barrier started to glow a faint pink, steaily rising in intensity and light. Joan ripped off a portion of her robe, wrapped it around her bleeding arm and looked up just as Cerberus was about to fire a stream of flames at her. However, the scene around her soon disappeared, fading into a pure blackness. The noises were replaced with silence, the ground beneath her feet seemingly non-existent, and only her body was illuminated in light.

 

An amused chuckle directed her attention to a bound figure kneeling on the ground, his postured hunched, shoulders shaking in mirth. The man wore close to nothing, his robes thoroughly tattered and torn as the thin material barely clung onto his starved and weak frame. Chains bound his hands tightly to his back and at other areas in the most grotesque way that Joan willed everything in her power not to faint or gag on the spot. The man’s neck, legs, torso and back were attached to chains, which hooked and dug deep into his flesh. Judging by the crusted blood, stench and rusted steel, the man had probably been left like this for years now.

 

Joan swallowed and took an uneasy step forward and the closer she got, the more she started to notice about the male before her. Like, how his skin was the colour of an unearthly blue and had strange dark markings all over his body, not to mention that despite his current condition, he was rather handsome. Joan forced her eyes not to trail below the man’s waist, blushing profusely when she heard him laugh again.

 

“Hello, little fool,” he whispered, lifting his head up to smirk mischiviously at the girl. “It has been a while since _your kind_ – he spat the words in disdain – has come enlisting my services. To what do I hold the honor?”

 

Joan let out a shuddered breath, mezmerised by the striking blood-red eyes that stared deep into her own.

 

“Come now, doth such a colour terrify your mortal soul? I should think thou to be most two-faced.” Joan straightened up immediately. “L-Loki? _You_ are Loki Laufeyson? The God of Mischief?” The raven haired man shrugged.

 

“A truly pathetic sight, is it not? I believe you wish to turn away?” The god was honestly surprised when the young witch before him shook her head firmly, and it showed albeit slightly on his face.

 

“No,” Joan stood directly in front of Loki. “I’ve come here for a purpose, and that purpose is to borrow your powers, at least for this round in particular.”

 

“You wish to do battle against that dragon in a most honourable manner, yes?” At Joan’s nod, he continued with renewed confidence. It had been so long since he had company. This girl was a fool to demand so much for something as trival as that – but a fool worthy of respect. He could sense determination, adventure, wit and cunning in this one. Her demands were a pleasant change from the usual mortal greed and conquest.

 

“Little fool…”

 

“State your claims, Laufeyson. It’s the way the Daybreak works.”

 

Loki threw back his head harshly as he laughed in utmost mockery. His voice was booming now, echoing about his magical prison, dripping with condescending tones.

 

“My dear girl, do not make me laugh! What, pray tell, in the nine realms could _you_ , a _mere mortal witch_ , offer _me,_ God of Mischief, prince, and greatest sorcerror of all of Asgard?”

 

His laughter immediately died down when Joan kneeled before him until they were eye level. Her expression was solemn, void of fear and uncertainty, which brought a keen smirk to the trickster god’s face. How interesting. _Very_ interesting.

 

“Your freedom.”

 

Loki’s eyes lit up dangerously, almost feral, as he raked his gaze hungrily over the young witch. Gradually, the chains that bound him began to disintergrate into dust and the scenery around them began to distort back and forth between the current realm and the arena. Loki moved his fingers experimentally, rotating his wrists.

 

After years of confinement, the tatse of freedom felt exquisite. Sure, this contract was only temporary, but he wasn’t the god of mischief for nothing; he always found a way to get what he wanted.

 

Slowly, his skin faded from blue to a normal peachly hue, as did his eyes from its previous striking red to an alluring blue-green. So much in awe at the god’s transformation was Joan that she failed to register the sinister aura of trepedition that practically exuded from Loki in waves.

 

Loki reached out to cup Joan’s face, giving her ear a slow and sensual lick, causing her to shudder. The trickster whispered silkily, his infamous silver tongue wrapping around each word seamlessly, like a serpent slowly encircling its unexpecting and defenseless prey.

 

“Smart choice, my young master. Foolish decision.”

 

\---

 

‘What’s going on down there?’

 

Harry’s brows furrowed, confused by his friend’s current state. Joan’s body was slack, eyes wide open and unblinking as if in a trance. The pink barried around her continued to emit its mysterious glow, successfully shielding her from any attack Cerberus threw at her, much to the dragon’s frustration.

 

Suddenly, the barrier began to crackle and fade, leaving Joan exposed to any oncoming threats. And Cerberus was no fool to seize that opportunity. The beast shrieked and charged towards the unmoving girl and the closer it got, the harder it was for Harry to stay behind his hiding spot any longer. But then, something horrific happened. Joan screamed.

 

It was the most agonizing wail Harry had ever heard, and the sound pained him, sent his skin crawling and hair to stand on its ends. Joan held her head in her hands and continued to scream, the pain ripping through every fibre of her being and quite literally, so did her skin. Her robes gave way and ripped as her body grew and changed drastically, growing a tail, claws, a snout, and wings. Spikes jutted from her now scaly skin and her pupils dilated to a thin black line surrounded by yellow.

 

Cerberus snorted in surprise and jumped back, eyeing the new creature before it in trepidation. In the box seat, Professor MacGonagall’s breath hitched. Never in all her years of Transfiguration and experience, had see seen such a perfect Animagus. And judging by the dark aura that swirled around the creature, there was definitely a lot of dark magic involved.

 

Before Cerberus stood another female Hungarian Horntail, its physique and appearance in sheer likeness to the original. Its actions even mirrored Cerberus’, possessing the exact detail of everything right down to the pattern of the spikes and scales. Cerberus II moved in a cautious manner, alternating between moving towards the egg and backing away. It did that enough to make Cerberus realize its intentions. With a possessive roar and a swipe of its claws, it successfully urged the new dragon back, but not for long. Cerberus II continued its persistantance and it was enough to drive the original into a fit of rage.

 

Harry watched, transfixed, Joan’s simple yet dangerous plan clicking in his head as he watched Cerberus II slowly lead Cerberus away from the egg. Of course this was the most solid way of distracting a mother away from its young, and that was to eliminate any possible threat. However, Harry’s concern was not unfounded. Assuming Cerberus form was useless if Joan hadn’t anything to protect herself against the onslaught of the dragon’s hardy attacks. Unless… the ritual and the potion she drank earlier had something to do about it. He was very sure he could sense a strong presence of dark magic involved.

 

Noticing that Joan had led Cerberus away enough, he swiftly darted out of his hiding spot and made a mad dash towards the egg. He cursed at the distance. It seemed so short from behind the boulder. But apparently, no one counted for Cerberus’ excellent hearing. The dragon immediately turned its attention to the running boy, realised what he was trying to do, and gave a loud roar. Cerberus II’s eyes widened and launched herself at the original, ramming her spikey body against Cerberus. The two dragons touselled, clawed, bit and fired at each other, Cerberus II doing everything in her power to keep Cerberus as far away from Harry as possible.

 

Just then, Cerberus, in a fit of desperation to protect the egg, fired a stream of fire at Harry, but thanks to Cerberus II’s quick perception, she intercepted the flame with her own. However, the tumbling around proved to be her undoing and the shot hit Harry on his back dead-on. Harry gave a strangled cry and slumped over. Thankfully, he had taken precausion and casted a protection charm on himself before running out, but damn, the blast still hurt and burnt the material at the back of his robes. From where he lay, he could see Cerberus II winning the brawl against the original, effortlessly tossing Cerberus to the side of the arena and crushing its head with her tail, knocking the dragon out successfully. He smiled in relief. It was over.

 

With weak fingers, Harry reached out for the egg but immediately pulled his hand back and rolled away when a blast of fire shot his way, charring the ground where he previously laid. The crowd gasped and Harry turned wide, disbelieving eyes at the source of his attacker. With black fabric wrapped around its left forearm, Cerberus II slowly stalked towards the terrified wizard, radiating a black aura so sinister and so intense, that it was plainly visible as it swirled about its form. Cerberus II fixed Harry with crazed, bloodthirsty eyes; not the kind and trsuty-worthy eyes of the girl that Harry grew so fond of.

 

“J-Joan? Joan!”

 

His voice grew more frantic as the dragon advanced closer.

 

“ ** _JOAN?!! SNAP OUT OF IT!”_**

****

Harry lept out of the way when Cerberus II shot at him again, and by the way it just barely missed him, Harry could tell that she was out for his life. Why was Joan attacking him? He seriously doubted this was her plan. Something had obviously been miscalculated.

 

Harry ducked, rolled, dodged and leapt as he struggled to evade the onslaught of Cerberus II’s attacks. In a desperate attempt of survival, he scrambled for his wand and aimed it above his head. To hell with Hermione’s lecture on proper spell casting! If this didn’t work, he’d be screwed.

 

“ _Accio Firebolt!”_

\---

 

Cerberus II roared in rage at the escaping boy on his broomstick and immediately took off after him, giving chase. Back at the arena, the original Cerberus was coming to and upon sight of her retreating copy, she tugged mercilessly at the chain around her neck. The metal broke off with a resounding ‘chink’ and now, poor Harry had two very vicious, very angry Hungarian Horntails hot on his trail.

 

“We have to do something! We have to help Harry!” Ron yelled in panic, the colour drained from his face. He whipped his head to the side to fix Draco with a livid stare.

 

“Bloody hell! Malfoy! This is all _your_ fault!”

 

“ _My_ fault?!” Draco lashed out, insulted. “Oh, because I magically cursed Joan, dooming her to remain in the form of a blood-thirsty dragon, which was all part of my plan to get rid of that bothersome Potter! _Sure! Spot on you bloody git!”_

Hermione and Lucas quickly latched onto a red-faced Ron, who seemed about ready to give Draco one hell of a pounding.

 

“Ron! Stop it!” Hermione cried. “Now’s not the time for this!”

 

“For once the Mudblood’s right,” Draco turned to face Lucas. “All potions have a remedy – Loki’s Daybreak shouldn’t be any different.”

 

“ _Loki’s Daybreak?!”_ Hermione practically screeched so loudly, that the two boys near her had to shield their ears. She was oblivious to their pain unfortunately. “ _How could you have allowed Joan to brew that potion? It’s banned for a reason! Don’t you boys ever think?!”_

Blaise crossed his arms, irritated by the witch’s indirect criticism of their mental capacity. “You speak as though we haven’t given this much thought, Granger. The bond between Joan and Loki is only temporary. She has a strong mind. I think she can handle it.”

 

“You’re missing the point! Loki is a _Trickster God!_ ” She pointed to the skies at the three tiny dots in the distance, eyes welling up with tears. “There’s a _reason_ why the victims don’t ever come back!”

 

“… Shit.”

 

Lucas pushed his way out of the crowd and leapt off the stands as he made a mad dash towards Hogwarts castle, ignoring the confused and desperated cries of Ron, Hermione and Blaise in the distance. Never in all his life had he felt more thankfully for his quick and agile speed. If Malfoy had been right about a counter potion, then this would very well be the only way to save Joan.

 

Hearing another set of running feet close behind him, Lucas turned wide, surprised eyes at the form of Malfoy keeping up surprisingly well with him. He figured all those years of running, hiding, and escaping dangerous situations helped the cowardly boy somewhat.

 

“Malfoy? What’re you doing here?”

 

“I’m the best at potions! You’ll need all the help you can get!”

 

They raced past the Black Lake towards Hogwarts.

 

\---

 

Harry’s breaths came out harsh and uneven, interwoven with panic and fear. He looked behind to see the two dragons giving chase, neither seeming to bother about the other and had their sights set on him. He cursed and willed his Firebolt to go faster. One Hungarian Horntail was bad enough, but this? This was Lady Luck fucking with him.

 

The winds were not helping his current condition and the fog started to roll in. The temperature dropped significantly and Harry’s breath came out in white mists. It was hard to see where he was going or make out any structure in the distance, but when a sudden gust of wind blew the fog before him, away, Harry let out a distressed cry and pulled his broom up, barely evading the stone walls of the castle. Higher and higher Harry flew, weaving in and out of the pointed castle roofs, making it difficult for his two persuers to keep up.

 

He snickered when he spotted Cerberus having trouble, but that smile immediately faded when he realised that was only **_one_** dragon.

 

‘Damn! Where’s-‘

 

Harry dodged a blast of fire from Cerberus II, swerving outo f the way. Beads of sweat started to gather at his forehead.

 

_This was insanity!_

Suddenly, Harry found himself cornered. Cerberus II had managed to cut off his path of flight and was leering dangerously down at him. Harry tried to back away but the roars of the original Cerberus approaching from behind stopped him. He was trapped.

 

Cerberus II roared and started producing magical copies of herself that gradually surrounded Harry. The boy’s eyes bulged. Since _when_ did Joan learn how to do that!?

 

Cerberus II smirked. Harry gulped.

 

This wasn’t good.

 

Cerberus II and her copies reeled their heads and all of them shot forth powerful streams of fire that would have incinerated Harry in the blink of an eye if he hadn’t dived in time.

 

The copies vanished and Cerberus II cried out in agony, shaking her great head constantly as if willing away pain. The dragon seemed confused and angry, but before Harry could wonder over the sudden change in Cerberus II’s personality, the original Cerberus flew straight into her, ramming her hard against one of the great towers. Weak and disoriented, Cerberus II plunged down through the depths of the rolling fog and out of sight.

 

Harry stopped in mid-flight, expression horrified.

 

‘No…’

 

His mouth quivered and he couldn’t help but let a distressed whimper escape his lips. His grip on his broom tightened and his entire body shook. It was impossible. This couldn’t be happening. Over and over again he tried desperately to convince himself that the dragon _wasn’t_ Joan. _Wasn’t_ the girl he had grown so much to adore and care for. _Wasn’t_ the girl that he planned to ask for the Yule Ball instead of Cho. _Wasn’t_ dead.

 

Red jewel glinting dangerously in the light, Cerberus, pleased with the elimination of one out of the two threats, turned her golden gaze to that of Harry’s. The boy continued to race through the skies, desperate to shake the great beast off his tail. It was at that moment where he truly felt alone in this. There was no Joan, no assistance, no plan, and finally the realization settled in that he was only 14 years old and was without much magical knowledge or experience.

 

He would surely die in this tournament if he didn’t think of something and fast.

 

\---

 

“Found it!”

 

Lucas turned his gaze away from the window where he had been watching Harry’s desperate escape attempts from the persistent dragon. He raced towards the blonde and snatched the book from Draco’s grasp.

 

“What’s your problem, Huffle-!”

 

“No time! Joan’s down!”

 

Draco’s eyes widened in shock, not willing to accept the news. He bit his lip, his clenched hands shaking. He swore under his breath. If anything happened to her, he would bloody well make that loathsome dragon pay dearly, and with its life.

 

“Here!” Lucas jabbed his finger at the page where the recipe for Loki’s Daybreak was. His quick eyes scanned through the entire contents of the chapter, right from the potion’s description to the end of the recipe itself. His eyes frowned in confusion.

 

“I don’t understand… I thought you said every potion had a remedy?”

 

“They do!” Draco bristled in defense.

 

“Well not this one!” Lucas re-read the entire thing again. Perhaps he had missed something.

 

A sudden violent shudder reverberated about the room, the stone walls quivering from the aftershocks of yet another missed blast of fire. Lucas and Draco held their ground and remained vigilant. The blonde Slytherin peered curiosly over the taller boy’s shoulder to read through the contents himself. The Hufflepuff had been right when he said there was no counter potion recipe or cure of any sort, but then something on the last page caught his eye. There, just under the end of the ingridient list, was a tiny scrawl of letters. He pointed at it.

 

“Hufflepuff, look at this.”

 

Lucas squinted at the tiny text, barely able to make out what the word was. Was it even a word? He’d never seen these characters before…

 

“It’s Norse,” Draco said matter of factly.

 

“And how would you know that?” Lucas gave him a skeptical stare. Draco glared at him.

 

“I’m a Malfoy. It's our job to be well-versed in many languages. Not to mention Loki is a _Norse_ God?”

 

“Right… So what does it say, genius?”

 

Draco squinted at the text and after recalling his mother’s teachings, parted his lips.

 

_“Syna.”_

 

The text then rose from the pages and started rearranging themselves to form something entirely new. Lucas gasped at the magical sight before him. Somehow he got the feeling that it was the Trickster God himself that wrote this particular chapter. Talk about depriving his victims of a cure by leaving it right in front of their faces!

 

‘Cunning…’ Lucas thought to himself.

 

“I… I can’t read this,” Draco stuttered at the intimidating spellwork. The advanced runes were simply baffling. “We haven’t learnt _any_ of this.”

 

Lucas on the other hand, had a wide grin plastered on his face as he took in the familiar symbols, letters and verses. Sure, he may have a disadvantage when it came to reading, but ancient runes were another story. Besides, he wasn’t top student in Durmstrung for nothing.

 

“But I can.”

 

Lucas then began to recite the ancient text, concentrating hard on getting every syllable right. Screwing this up might prove detrimental to the castee and he wouldn’t have any of that. The last few words left his lips and the pages started to emit an enchanting golden glow, before it disappeared, leaving the chapter in its original condition.

 

Quickly throwing the book aside, Lucas and Draco raced out of the room to see if the spell had resulted in anything good. So distracted were they that they failed to notice a dark red seal slowly etch its way on the page that they had read from.

 

The seal was a unification of two Norse symbols that represented ‘god’ and ‘man’, and glowed an ominous red.

 

\---

 

“ ** _ARGHH!”_**

 

Harry lay sprawled out on the roof of one of the castle towers, his Firebolt flying out of his grasp and landing on a window ledge below him. He coughed and coughed, swallowing the bile that had threated to spill when Cerberus’ tail had hit him square in the stomach and flung him off his broom. Harry twitched and groaned as he tried to sit up but failed.

 

He could hear the beat of Cerberus’ wings and knew the dragon was getting closer. It was no use. No matter how fast he flew or how much he tried to loose it, he could not out-fly the powerful winged beast.

 

Rolling quickly to his left and leaning over the edge, Harry made several desperate attemps to grab his Firebolt but to no avail. It was just too far out of reach and his position was far too perilous to risk any sudden movement.

 

“Damn it!”

 

Harry slammed his fist on the cold surface of the roof but stopped short when he felt a presence to his right. He gulped audibly and nervously turned his head only to find himself staring at his own reflection through Cerberus golden gaze. And at that moment, Harry didn’t seem to care much for practicality anymore.

 

‘To hell with it!’

 

He jumped off the roof and made a grab at his Firebolt. However, he seemed to have miscalculated. Yes, he was falling and hurtling towards the ground. Yes, he managed to get his broom. But Harry had apparently forgotten that gravity and free-falling were not a good combination, especially when one needed get their broom underneath them, and then take off.

 

“ _No, no, no, no, no!”_

 

Harry shut his eyes tightly, awaiting his end. However, the sound of powerful wings and a familiar roar invaded Harry’s ears, as he found himself landing unceremoniously face-first onto the scaly back of a very familiar reddish-black dragon. Harry shook his head and peered curiously at the kind golden eyes of his savior, down at the black cloth wrapping around the dragon’s feet, and back up at the eyes again. A relieved smile slowly inched its way up his lips as his eyes shone with renewed hope.

 

“Joan?”

 

The dragon kneeled happily.

 

“Oh gosh, Joan,” Harry wrapped his arms around the dragon’s neck the best he could and laughed. “Thank goodness! Don’t you dare do that to me again!”

 

They raced back towards the arena, the cheers of the students loud and clear upon sight of their return. Behind them, Cerberus continued her relentless assault, hurling stream after stream of blazing inferno at the pair in front. Harry clung on for dear life when Cerberus II retracted her wings and dived downwards in a swift plunge, evading Cerberus’ attacks and heading straight for the golden egg. Everyone rose from their seats and held their breaths as they watched Harry stretch out his hand as they got closer and closer towards the ground.

 

Harry stretched as far as his fingers allowed him to, and once he flet the smooth cool surface of gold at his fingertips, he lunged forwards and held his prize protectively against his chest. At the same time, Joan could no longer support Harry’s weight as she shape-shifted back to her original form. The two landed hard on the uneven stone floor, with Joan on top of Harry and her face in his stomach.

 

The dragon tamers emerged and aimed their wands at the approaching Cerberus, petrifying her and levitating the giant creature away and out of the premise. The crowd continued to cheer, many of the students hugging each other and laughing in relief. Even the professors were applauding excitedly. The first round of the Tri-wizard tournament was over and all champions made it through.

 

Harry lay on the ground, disoriented, one hand on Joan’s head as he stroked her hair absently. As the events and their apparent victory slowly started to sink in, a wide grin creeped across his lips. He gazed down fondly at the girl in his arms.

 

“Hey, Joan. We did it. Well, you did it. We won!”

 

The girl never even stirred and her lack of response scared him. Harry sat up immediately and shook her in distress.

 

“Joan? **JOAN!** Wake up! Please, **_WAKE UP!”_**

****

It was no use. She was totally out and her breathing was shallow. He turned to the direction of an approaching Dumbledore, whose eyes reflected the same worry Harry’s did. Professor Snape was right behind him.

 

“Sir, you have to help her, please!”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

** Chapter 9 **

****

So far so good.

Lucas leapt over the wall, dashing towards the Apothecary. 

If all were going according to plan, Sirius would be handling the Snatchers right now. The Animagus was legendary in his spellwork; dueling and sheer persistence-over a dozen years in Azkaban could dull his senses, but certainly not his base level of skill.

Either way, both sides would be considerably let down-leaving them vulnerable for the capture.

And multi-tasking didn't hurt much either. With a quick spell, the Apothecary door exploded. The investigators would later determine it to be an act of vandalism, alongside the other stores that the Snatchers had robbed and vandalized from. Lucas wasn't a huge fan of stealing, but Joan was taking on a lot more than she could chew with her Potion...and needed last minute, back up ingredients urgently. 

He scuffled through the animals, yanking out a feature, a fur here and there, taking additional but likely unnecessary additions. There was no harm in playing it safe, and from the sounds of the spells the huge group of them would be occupied for a bit longer.

The first sign of things going wrong was when the noise outside suddenly amplified. A different voice, one that didn’t have Sirius’ gruffness or the screeches of the younger Snatchers was evident. Angry yelling, that quickly turned into a scream of fear as a few more lights and explosions dominated the area a distance away.

_Something went wrong,_ realized Lucas in terror. He quickly ran back to where he had left Sirius. What had Aberforth said about Little Whinging? His mind suddenly brought him back to a conversation between ‘Tom’ and another storeowner…

“ _Nowadays I have to close so late that I sleep there…”_

And then Lucas remembered the more terrifying part of the conversation.

_“My kid’s staying with me.”_

Sure enough, the Snatchers were dueling with Sirius, a middle aged man while using themselves as a human shield between a crying child. Well, dueling if _dueling_ were considered the six men dressed in thick clothing and snarls on their faces attacking two innocent men and a child.

“Flanto Duri!” growled Sirius, almost as a whisper as the huge magic shield quickly became a physical defense against the many fire-based spells. Expecting a delay time, the Snatcher was caught off guard by a non-verbal stunning spell.

His spell timing was perfect; striking the Snatcher over his magic wall-but the two of them were quickly getting backed into a corner. With the child to protect, they couldn’t use excessively strong spells either. Lucas groaned as he jumped into the fray. This was going to end badly either way.

\----

 

“Vinculio Fulguriens!”

The chain lightning spell surprised the Snatchers, giving the two older men behind him a chance to start firing offensive spells. In a matter of short minutes, the 6 Snatchers lay stunned on the ground, soon to be trapped in place by various spells.

“Well,” mumbled the kid. “That went well. Thanks.”

Sirius wasn’t sure how exactly he was controlling the rage that was building up in his body right now. There were so many things he wanted to do to the kid-strangle him, dump his body in a ditch and get a cold Butterbeer to laugh it off. That would be a good start.

“What were you _thinking?”_ demanded Sirius. “And who the hell are you, anyway?! Went well?! You could have been responsible for two deaths tonight!” 

The kid looked slightly contrite, but rather determined not to get talked down to.

“Right,” he countered hotly. “Because they were the ones targeted, not an _escaped prisoner_ from Azkaban.”

WHAM

Sirius wasn’t sure when he had taken out his wand, but he was holding it. The kid crashed painfully into a wall…he must have fired the concussive spell instinctively, using non-verbal magic…

…That wasn’t what he should have been concerned about. But there were many things that he was trying to avoid. How this child knew he was going to be in Little Whinging tonight, or that he was an Animagus, or what on earth the boy had been trying to accomplish in the first place. He highly suspected that the boy had been trying to capture both him and the Snatchers, but that plan had gone disastrously…

And from the pained look on the boy’s face not just brought about from the spell, he had probably hit the nail on the head.

“Kid, I don’t know what you were trying to do, or how you know who I am… _what_ I am…but I promise you this. You go near my godson, or try to get me through him, and I will _kill you.”_

He didn’t need to get the kid to understand, from the way the boy’s confidence finally dropped and he hardly looked so sure of himself anymore. Because when he had said it, he knew for sure that he would keep his word. And the boy could see it as well.

“I’m leaving. Make sure the child is safe. It wouldn’t be good for his father to realize he was fighting alongside an _escaped prisoner._ ”

And he left.

\---

Lucas was shaken. Completely.

He felt his knees buckle; his legs weaken until he found himself sitting on the floor, trembling. His heart pounding in his head, the hairs on his skin standing on end…

He knew Sirius hadn’t killed those people all those years ago. Hell, he knew Sirius had never killed anyone. But the way he looked moments ago…he knew, that Sirius would kill him. He would rather die than let Lucas have his way.

Even though he would hardly describe himself as a typical 14-year-old boy, Lucas certainly felt like it now. This welled up emotion surfaced, and he found himself unsure of how to deal with it…it was like a mixture of wanting to break into tears because he was so terrified, or stomp around because he was frustrated and angry with himself as well, or both.

“What’s that?” piped in a voice.

Aberforth surfaced, looking…well, old. Lucas managed a smirk, looking at his pouch. The ingredients felt almost weightless.

“You know what it is.” Lucas folded his arms, glaring at his mentor accusingly. “You saw all of that, didn’t you.”

“Yes, and it was sloppy and careless.”

Lucas frowned as he leapt onto a wall comfortably, his pride compelling him to react angrily. But he wasn’t sure. With Aberforth, he could hardly ever tell whether the man was joking or serious.

So he said nothing.

“And your spells…”

“I haven’t had my wand in a while,” interjected Lucas, feeling irritated. “It’s a long story.”

“Loki’s Daybreak?” asked Aberforth, jumping topic quickly. He was like that, always staying on point. If he knew something, he didn’t bother letting you explain. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s Snape’s daughter,” he reminded, as if Lucas needed further reminding. “You could be held responsible. Dark magic like that…”

“I know.” The student shrugged. “I didn’t like her at first,” admitted Lucas. “But I’ve got to say, she’s pretty special. I think she can handle it.”

He jumped off the wall, heading back to the secret passageway from which he came from.

“I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

\-----

Another day.

Another nightmare.

It had passed through her mind like the breeze, and she barely remembered anything specific now...but she knew, she could feel that it wasn't natural. It was evil, and it was inside her. 

Joan grimaced, shaking herself up as she rubbed at her eyes. She pushed a boy's leg out of the way...she couldn't tell whose it was, Malfoy and Zabini was sleeping so closely together that it could have been either of them. She grinned to herself as she whipped out a digital camera-not the best quality, but enough for potential blackmail material. She doubted it would be used anytime soon, but it would make good for some laughs.

The boys were generally sprawled around her, actually. Malfoy and company had stayed up all night to help her with getting last minute ingredients and time-checking. Even though Loki's Daybreak had dewed over months to be prepared for that night, there were still many last minute factors she had to take into account. She barely escaped tripping over Lucas' big head, before struggling up the stairs to get changed. It was still early, but even her choice of clothing would help the potion's effect. She had to choose carefully.

Today was a big day. 

In two hours she was chewing on a muffin in skintight clothing, her eyes shifting back and forth towards the people staring at her as she made her way out of the Great Hall, a precious vial in her robes. 

The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. She felt unnaturally wary of eveyone around her, especially when most of them were still casting her with suspicious looks of fear from the DA class incident. Class breezed by far too soon, and in moments Snape had motioned her out of his class, a slight crack of worry on his usually masked features. She traded a silent farewell with him as she left the class.

"Hey," she grinned at him. The boy looked so pale and nervous, as if he would faint at any moment. It made him look a little pathetic, but also kind of cute.

He smiled back, still somewhat jittery. "Hey yourself." He grinned. "Did you hear? Karkaroff isn't judging this task. An independent internal committee is judging to see if he was trying to sabotage this event or not."

Joan nodded. This was good news either way, for both of them. Whether or not it was Karkaroff, this confusion seemed to have bought them some time, and decreased the odds of anything potentially fatal happening in today's task.

"By the way," asked Harry thoughtfully. "Did you find out what happened with Cerberus?"

Joan grimaced. After giving both her Headmaster and her father a earful, she had agreed to let Cerberus take part in the task after the numerous assurances that she wouldn't be hurt, that she wouldn't have to go up against Joan, and that all the precautions were taken. It wouldn't be fair to hold up three schools for another month so they could find another dragon, and Cerberus was as strong, if not stronger, than the dragons they had already gathered.

"That's really great, Joan," said Harry with a brilliant smile. She almost blushed from his sincere reaction. "Although," he joked, "I wish you had held it off another month."

She smiled back. Harry Potter. What an enigma. Moments ago she had never felt more scared, lost and confused in her life, and just like that she felt like she could take on anything. Like THEY could take on anything.

They talked for a while longer, which seemed like the longest and best period of time she had experienced in the day. He hadn't managed to get the Cloak back, but he had friends who were helping him get it back. Like her, he had also stayed up all night preparing for the test in his own way ("Remind me to thank Lucas for helping Hermione with that spell," he said, "she really helped me perfect it"). And of course, both of them were the only two, frightened under 16 year olds who were going to be taking part in the Tournament of the century. It was a pretty traumatizing, life-changing experience to go through together.

For a moment, Joan really considered telling him what she was up to, what she was going to do for the task...how dangerous it was, and how worried she was that the outcome would affect her for the rest of her life. But as they were called away to choose their dragon, she decided against it.

Little did she know that it would.

\---

Joan’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of the miniature dragon breathing fire in the palm of Harry’s hand. Harry’s face donned a similar expression, his hand trembling. The other champions gathered around the pair to stare at the dragon curiosly. Someone whistled.

“Hungarian horntail, huh?” Vicktor chuckled. “Well, good luck with staying alive.” He walked off proudly to prepare for his fight against the Chinese Fireball. Fleur followed suit with her typical upturned nose, save Cedric who offered them a small, uneasy smile to convey his concern and well wishes.

Harry gulped and nodded, before turning to face his partner. Joan’s hands clenched and unclenched themselves, worrying her lip. Afraid that she would suffer a nervous breakdown any second, Harry quickly reached out the grab her hand, rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles.

“Hey, we’ve prepared for the worst case scenario. We’ll get through this.”

His voice was gentle and comforting as he bent his head to peer up at Joan’s face. After some hesitance, Joan returned a small smile, which made his heart flutter. She nodded and they turned away from each other to assume preparations.

Hours passed and Harry’s nerves were beginning to get to him. He was all jittery, pacing about like a deranged lunatic and occassionaly rubbing his sweaty palms against each other in an effort to still his racing heart. He was going to face off against a _dragon_ and not just any dragon, but a _Hungarian Horntail_ , the wizarding world’s most dangerous and unpredictable species of dragon. To say he wasn’t prepared was an understatement – Harry was _clueless._

Apart from taking up Professor Moody’s suggestion on using his broom to get through this round, Harry had nothing. For one thing, no competitor was allowed to bring any object or possession with them apart from their wands. Secondly, his broom was in the castle and he had no idea how he was even going to get to it. He chanced a quick glance at Joan who seemed more or less calm and stoic as she sat down patiently, posture straight, in deep thought. Harry couldn’t help but feel attracted and jealous of her poised and relaxed demeanor. The young Slytherin probably prepared way in advance and with Draco and Blaise by her side supporting her every way, Harry was certain, if worst comes to worse, he would have to depend on Joan to get them through the competition.

 

He continued to watch Joan as she reached into her robes and took out a slim vial of crimson liquid. She downed the entire contents into her mouth and corked it, tucking it back into her robes. Harry frowned. He was pretty sure that wasn’t pumpkin juice.

_“Fleur Delacour and the Common Welsh Green!”_

Harry and Joan literally jumped from the booming announcement. They gave each other nervous looks, which was followed shortly by nervous laughter. By Merlin, they were losing it.

“ **HARRY!!”**

And so, the boy-who-lived was extremely unprepared when he found a pair of arms flung tightly around him. He stumbled to accommodate the emotional wreck in his hold.

“I-It’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

Said girl pulled away to get her emotions under control.

“Oh, Harry! I’m scared for you-“

A sudden click and flash of a camera, found the two turning to face a smug looking Rita Skeeter, her ever-loyal magical quill and notepad floating by her side. She pushed her flashy, dramatic spectacles up her nose.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? The famous golden boy out romancing just before his turn?” The reporter tsked.

Suddenly, another figure entered the tent, his silver eyes searching until they landed on Hermione’s form. He growled irritably and stormed towards her, tugging at her hand.

“Hermione, don’t just go off like that! You had us all worried!” Lucas hissed. He looked up and was about to offer both Harry and Joan wishes of good luck, when another click and flash interrupted the moment. Four pairs of eyes turned to glare irritably at Rita who feigned innocence.

“Anyway,” Hermione interjected hurriedly. “Lucas and I came to teach you a spell that will definitely be useful later.”

“Really?” Harry asked, hopeful. Lucas nodded and took out his wand, motioning for Harry to do the same.

“The spell is _‘Accio’_. It’s a charm that calls forth objects that which you desire. For example, _accio cup!_ ” Instantly, the small porcelain cup Lucas indicated, flew over to his hand. “You can summon your broom with this.”

“No, no, no! Harry needs time to learn this spell! He needs a more gradual approach and as his friend, I think you should leave the teaching to me.”

“Hermione, Harry doesn’t have _time_ to learn the slow and proper way! Just… just let me do it ok?”

“Oh no you don’t! We’re not arguing about this!”

“Oh my,” Rita giggled as she stared at Hermione’s hand in Lucas’.

“A love triangle! How exciting! Harry Potter, how does it feel like to have your one true love ripped viciously out from your grasp into that of another? Any thoughts of revenge?”

Joan rolled her eyes at the incredulity of Rita’s antics. She ignored Harry, Lucas and Hermione as they argued with the blonde reporter, sitting back down in her chair to continue brooding. She needed to concentrate and clear her head. Already, her entire body started to feel hot and she was getting a little light-headed. She felt a presence seep into her consciousness, like a chilling, foreboding whisper in the dead of night. She sighed and closed her eyes; it wouldn’t be long now.

 


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter 12 **

Loki/Joan had barely stepped out of the hospital wing when three very loud voices began screaming at him.

 

Such aggression would usually be an act of war. Instinctively he reached for his blade as he begun to chant a spell, only to realize that he had no sword-or a belt for that matter-and no spell was working.

 

…this was clearly going to take some getting used to.

 

The owners of the voices soon reached up to him, all dressed in red robes. The first was a young boy, looking quite vulnerable and weak externally. Worry was evident all over his face as his hand reached for Loki/Joan’s forehead, his cool hand lightly brushing over her hot skin. He smelled like a warm shower and shampoo; at this, he felt his host blush. She thought he was attractive.

 

Humans. So primal.

 

The other two consisted of a tall redhead, and a bushy, brown haired girl. Neither of them quite had the elegance or the physical beauty of his host. He had been quite lucky, so to speak.

 

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right?” said Joan, irritated. “Am I supposed to say ‘thanks?’”

 

In ‘their’ mind, Loki’s eyes shot daggers at her.

 

“Joan, how do you feel?” asked the brown haired girl. “What you did was really dangerous!”

 

“Some sensitivity, Hermione,” growled the frail looking boy with the thick-rimmed glasses.

 

“I’m fine, guys,” said Loki/Joan, putting on a smile as he continued to try and access his host’s vocabulary. What kind of word was ‘guys’ anyway? It seemed to indicate only males and yet it was used to address both sexes. How ridiculous.

 

“I can HEEEAAARRR YOUUU…” said Joan annoyingly.

 

The girl called Hermione laughed. “Joan, what was that? You looked freaked out for a moment.”

 

Odin’s blood, the girl was distracting! This host was simply not going to lie down and die like the others…

 

“Damn right!” yelled Joan, kicking an invisible wall in her mind. Then she promptly whipped out an electric guitar from thin air and begun playing and singing. Badly.

 

Argh.

 

“Argh,” muttered Loki/Joan. In real life. Internally, he could feel his host laughing her head off. Beside her, a lamp exploded randomly.

 

“Harry, maybe we should go,” said the redhead to his other male companion. “She still looks a little out of it.”

 

The boy named Harry had a body language that screamed reluctance, but he moved to escort ‘her’ back to her bed.

 

“Harry,” whispered Loki/Joan huskily. “Could you tell me what happened? Who did this to me?”

 

It was imperative that he found the boy who had trapped him here, weakening his hold on the girl. Once undone, he could take over her body permanently and…

 

“SCREW YOU LAUFEYSON. YOU’RE NOT TAKING OVER MY BODY.”

 

…claw his way back to Asgard, while ruling over Midgard, get revenge on his brother, etc. But he had to find the boy first. He had heard the sound of his voice from the moment the runes were read, but for whom he was, how he looked like…

 

“DON’T TELL HIM, HARRY! DON’T TELL HIM IT WAS LUCAS!”

 

Lucas?

 

“OH FUCK.”

 

Loki grinned. Silly girl.

 

As he went to acknowledge Harry, he found the most unusual look on his face. He looked dumbfounded, but also rather enlightened. It was as if the more he looked at Joan, the more he would realize something…he felt his host’s hopeful thoughts, encouraging him to see through the façade…

 

But Harry Potter was interrupted.

 

“I’m going to the library,” announced Hermione. “Harry, you should come with me.”

“What?” said the boy, sounding very much surprised. “I mean, of course Hermione...”

“Bye!” waved Loki/Joan, in a sickening nauseating voice. Joan groaned.

 

He laughed.

_~_

_What the hell was that?_ demanded a little rational voice inside his head.

 

Lucas groaned, slumping against the wall. This was awful. He was completely losing it.

He needed to vent.

 

In moments he was outside the halls, nearing the Forbidden Forest-one of his favorite spots for training. Most attributed the noise and destruction to ghouls…but he knew better. Never mind that he was breaking school rules-again.

 

In a few minutes, he carried out his routine training. Intense physical exercise combined with a series of practicing his favorite spells. As the rock dissipated into nothingness, he couldn’t help but grin. He really _was_ good.

 

 _Footsteps._ His wand was at the ready, his stance cautious.

 

“Who’s ther…Joan?”

 

The pretty girl was still dressed only in her nightgown, which barely reached past her waist. Her short hair at the beginning of the year had grown to shoulder length, cascading down her shoulders. Even though she still looked pretty pale and sickly, she would have made a very attractive ghost.

 

Lucas blushed.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” he asked, looking away hurriedly. “How did you get out here?”

 

“You play war games, young one,” she whispered, a smile on her face both so stunning and sensual that it caught him off guard. “So talented at such a young age.”

 

Lucas blinked. “I’m really glad you’re okay too, Joan. But that’s just weird.” He fired another spell at the column of rocks, shattering them. After a couple of minutes doing this, Lucas turned around only to see Joan still standing there-except a lot closer than before.

 

“Y-you know,” mumbled Lucas, trying very much to avert his eyes from her. “If you’re still sick, you should really be resting.”

 

“Still very much a boy,” she chuckled, leaning even closer forward. “You know…I love the sound of your voice.”

 

By this point, even the ever-dense Lucas was starting to get that something was seriously wrong.

 

“Joan…?”

“Now…” she hissed, “how about you undo those runes, boy?”

 

Lucas barely had time to duck before long, sharp fingernails sprouted from Joan’s hand, reaching to coil around his neck. Instinct kicked in and he pushed her back, albeit a little harder and further than he had intended.

 

The girl let out a chilling chuckle. With one wave of her hand, all the rocks around him simultaneously burst into flames, become thick vapors of gas.

 

 _This is bad,_ thought Lucas, coughing over the smoke. Well, bad was an understatement at best. Something must have gone terribly wrong, because Joan was certainly not in control here. That kind of wandless, advanced Transfiguration was considerably above her level. Loki Laufeyson had to still be inside her somehow…

 

In other words, he was fighting a _God._

 

~

 

Joan watched-well, _herself-_ saunter effortlessly through the smoke. It was as if her vision had transcended past her eyes-able to see everything clearly despite the darkness and the smoke.

 

Beans of light ripped through the smoke like slicing paper. A very serious looking Lucas broke through the smoke, before a lightning cage encircled her.

 

“Still a foal…” she heard herself mouth.

 

“…there is no shame is surrender.”

 

Suddenly she felt a myriad of visions strike her-it was as if looking into 8 different mirrors at the same time. And then she realized that she was in fact, looking at herself; 8 copies to be exact.

 

To Lucas’ credit, the Chain Lightning spell had actually managed to disable a few of the ‘clones.’ But with each afterimage having the same density as her original body, there was too much hesitation in the spell. He would never know for sure if he was risking injuring her.

The next few moments were awkward for Joan. While she was glad that Lucas was somewhat holding his own against the Trickster God, it was never a pleasant image to watch ‘herselves’ get kicked and punched while trying to restrain the angry teenager.

 

While of course, Loki was surveying from a safe distance.

 

_He’s just toying with him._

“Let her go.”

 

Lucas had clambered up to the top of the area where Loki had escaped to, a few fallen ‘Joans’ behind him. His wand was pointed straight at her/them, his eyes blazing with fury. Several burns marked his already scarred body.

 

“You are a fool,” Loki/Joan hissed. “A mortal cannot even begin to match Asgard’s finest Sorcerer. I tire of these games.” The ground began to rumble, shaking with each step Loki made towards Lucas. “Undo the spell or face eminent death.”

 

The pressure on the ground had already gotten to Lucas, as his body collapsed pushing against it. “No,” he struggled defiantly.

 

“Then die a worthless death!” screamed Loki. “You will-“

 

WHAM.

 

A streak of red…with messy hair. The trickster God never saw it coming. Harry James Potter-destined to save her. Again. The broomstick smacked straight into Loki/Joan, sending her sprawling onto the floor. It hurt like hell, but internally Joan was cheering.

 

“Get on!” yelled Harry. Lucas forced himself to his feet, getting behind Harry on his broomstick. “We’ve got to get to the book again.”

 

“Malfoy knows where it is,” said Lucas painfully.

 

“Then we’re going to him!” The Firebolt took to the sky, heading back towards the castle. Joan watched the broom soar away…

 

…And then she, or Loki to be accurate, was flying after it. The wind stung her face painfully and pierced her skin like icy daggers, but Loki was completely out of control by that point.

 

Which was exactly what she had been counting on.

 

Even though it hurt like hell, she begun pounding at the invisible walls placed around her. Anything and everything she could do at this point counted-feeling her pain made Loki too aware, too vulnerable. This one chance was all she had…

And it paid off.

 

“No!” Loki screamed. “No!”

 

It had been insane. Rendering them both unconscious from so much self-inflicted pain. But it had been enough. The last vision she could see was the broomstick doubling back, it’s owner making his most spectacular catch yet…

 

Completely at peace, Joan passed out.

 

~

 

“So this is what happened,” explained Hermione.

 

A couple of minutes ago, Joan had woken up, restrained to the hospital wing bed. Before she could struggle, Harry hurriedly explained what was going on. She would be able to combat the entity in her body.

 

“Honestly, you two. This is all because you didn’t do your research,” said Hermione frankly. “While both of you knew what the effects of Loki’s Daybreak would be, neither of you knew the _aftereffects_.”

 

“After Loki has completed the task assigned to him by his master, he is contractually obligated to ‘stand by’ his master for the remaining duration of that contract.”

 

“But being a trickster God, Loki was able to interpret the Latin words for ‘Stand by’ in Norse.”

 

Lucas cringed. He had somewhat foreseen this part. “Which was…”

  
“Stand over,” translated Hermione ominously. “He would have seized control of Joan’s body, put out her consciousness forever and set back out to Asgard.”

 

“So that’s why even though the spell has had a fair amount of publicity, it’s forbidden,” said Ron, the only one of two in the group having spent all his life in the magic world. “Bloody hell.”

 

Joan groaned. “But the runes…”

“The runes did seal off Loki’s power and bond him to you,” interrupted Harry, still upset with Lucas about the whole thing. “But not his lack of consciousness.”

 

“He tricked you,” said Harry simply. “When you woke up.”

 

Hermione flipped open a page in one of the books, which looked a deathly black. “Loki never had the power to control your body. He had woken up from the runes effect earlier than you, that’s all. Once he had done that, he lulled you into a sense that you were powerless to take back your body.”

 

“So…” said Joan, it having sunk in. “I could have taken my body back anytime I wanted?”

 

“As long as you _believed_ you could take it back,” said Harry. He placed a comforting, warm hand on her shoulder. She shuddered, from both anger and relief of what could have been.

 

“Don’t take it so hard on yourself,” said Hermione, looking sympathetically sad. “He’s a _trickster_ God.”

 

Lucas slumped back, the revelation of this hitting him almost as badly as Joan. As usual, he had underestimated his opponent. And it could have gotten someone killed. Imagine thinking Joan was remotely strong enough to bargain with the God of Mischief himself. It had been so foolish.

 

“So how did you guys find out?” he asked, sheepishly.

 

“Fortunately for you,” said Hermione icily, instilling more guilt in the boy. “We’d already seen a possession case before.”

 

“My sister,” said Ron, the venom laced in his tone. Lucas groaned. He wasn’t going to let it go.

  
“She had suffered a worse case of possession, and the symptoms were the same. It just took some time for us to confirm it.”

 

“Good thing your signs were more obvious,” said Harry to Joan with a grin. “You must have really been thrashing around.”

 

Joan did not grin back. A figure lingered from her shadow, cloaking her in his shade. Hermione signaled to Lucas, and he shrugged, looking at the book as he addressed Joan.

 

“So, every day-“ said Lucas, promptly pointing at the snarling figure shadowing over Joan. “I have to read a couple of runes off this book, and he’ll go right back in.”

 

“You disgust me, boy!” blurted Loki through Joan.

 

“Yeap, whatever you say.” 6 carefully read runes later, Loki shrunk back inside Joan’s inner being.

 

“It’s really strange to hear you speak like that,” said Harry.

“Thanks,” she mumbled weakly. “Hrrgh!” she heaved, almost throwing up over the floor. “That hurts.”

 

And then she promptly threw up on the floor, where Harry’s shoes happened to be. He jumped away almost instantly, but it didn’t quite cut not getting fresh bile on his shoes.

 

“Sorry,” mumbled Joan sheepishly.

“What’re you apologizing for?” Lucas grimaced. “You’re still there, aren’t you, Laufeyson?”

 

Joan blinked, not having heard or understood what Lucas had muttered. Just then, her red eyes briefly flashed a dangerous gold; confirming exactly what Lucas had just said.

 

“Okay,” she said finally. “I get it. Can he…?”

 

“He can take a physical form over time if I don’t do this,” said Lucas. “Sorry, you. But until we find a more permanent solution, it looks like you’re going to have to live with this for a while…”

 

“Fuck…”

 

_Gladly._

 

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?!”

 

Hermione sighed, eye twitching, as Joan apparently seemed to have lost her mind in the eyes of the public, flaling and pointing accusingly at nothing in particular. They probably had to get used to her talking to herself and reacting to herself more often. Ron turned hesitantly to face the others.

 

“I suppose we ought to keep this a secret?”

 

Harry shrugged.

 

“I don’t like this, but it’s probably the lesser of the two evils. I can’t imagine this getting out to Hogwarts, much less to the Daily Prophet. Joan and I already have it bad enough as it is, and as much as I dislike Snape, I don’t think even he deserves more stress on his shoulders.”

 

Ron pouted. “Pity-“

 

“Ronald Weasley!”

 

“WHAAAAAATTTTTTTTT?”

 

Harry chuckled as his best friends exploded into yet another one of their relentless arguments brought on by pointless opinions. At the corner of his eye, he noticed the slightly despondent gaze of Lucas, which was directed at Hermione. Harry offered him a wry smile and placed a reassuring hand on said boy’s shoulder, only to have it shrugged aggressively away, not that he minded. He was a guy and he could understand what Lucas was probably going through. More often than not, he felt the same way as him whenever it came to Cho. Jealousy was one thing, but longing, insecurity and the occasional “What the hell am I doing?” were prevalent too.

 

Harry sighed when Joan didn’t seem to waste any time in jumping to her feet and chasing after the moody boy. Sometimes Harry felt he was losing his edge on being a good friend but then again, it felt good to be less involved and “the hero” for a change. Besides, it seemed out of everyone in the group, apart from Hermione (who was obviously the problem), Joan would be the one who understood him best. With that, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione to hopefully break them up and continue discussing about their plan for round two of the tournament.

 

~

 

Lucas practically stormed through the corridors of the castle, rudely pushing past any unsuspecting student that walked by. He was well aware that he was reverting back to to his old ways, but at this point of time he didn’t seem to care for much. His previous “bully” session with Malfoy and Zabini felt good for a change, actually embracing his potential for power rather than being ashamed of it. It was so bloody frustrating to please others. He was halfway considering a change of a new “social routine”, when he felt his hand yanked forcefully back by a not-too-pleased Joan Snape.

 

“WHAT was that?” she hissed, or at least tried to but her anger was apparent.

 

“I have no bloody idea what you’re talking about,” replied Lucas acidily and pulled his hand back, only to find Joan making a mad grab at his robes and tugging him back again. He choked in surprise but Joan ignored him.

 

“I have three words for you: Hermione. Problem. Icanhelpyou.”

 

Lucas felt his anger slowly melting away. Sometimes this girl was so silly, it was adorable.

 

“Er, technically that’s six words…”

 

“Sodder off! Here, MERRY CHRISTMAS.”

 

She then shoved a poorly wrapped present into Lucas’s hands. He stared at it unsurely, before looking up to stare suspisciously into Joan’s eyes. She figured what he was thinking.

 

“No, it’s not going to explode in your face. Loki’s busy laughing at me too, so you’re clear.”

 

Strangely, the girl was taking to the fact that a dangerous God hell-bent on destroying her and possibly the world was living inside her, rather well. He shook his head and decided to stop questioning the antics of his strange friend. He tore off the wrapper (if it could even be considered a wrapper) and his heart fell in disappointment.

 

“A… book? Er, thanks…”

 

“Not just any book,” Joan winked at him. “A self-help book on relationships and well, mainly girls.”

 

Lucas had to resist the urge to throw the book at her.

 

“Do I LOOK like I need a BOOK?”

 

“No, you LOOK like you need HELP.”

 

Lucas snarled.

 

“And some anger management courses… you alright? Loki told me you nearly twisted Ron’s arm off earlier.” She gazed at him in concern, quickly adding a “Loki’s consciousness has free reign over the castle” before the boy could start freaking out over the possibility of Legilimency.

 

Lucas had gone quiet so Joan decided her time was probably up. She tip-toed to pat his head reassuringly.

 

“I’m sorry for getting you into trouble with the ministry and probably a lot of things to come –Lucas stiffened – but hey, it’s pretty exciting, isn’t it? Adventure, danger, secrets, friends… _romance_.”

 

Something sublte and warm flashed across his silver eyes and Joan knew she got him.

 

“I just want to help and I know how much you and Hermione like each other. I know asking for help is not your thing, so I got you help for Christmas instead.”

 

Lucas blinked comically; the only thing processing through his mind was the fact that Hermione _liked_ him _back_. Joan smirked at him mischieviously and he wondered for the second time that day if it was his friend or the trickster god he was talking to. Joan was about to skip away when she stopped to wink at him once more.

 

“Dude, she digs you. Now all you have to do is prove to her she’s worth it.”

 

As soon as the peculiar Slytherin disappeared, curiosity got the better of Lucas and he opened the book and was immediately greeted with a neon-coloured post-it (such peculiar muggle stationary) with words scribbled neatly on it. It took a while, but he managed to read it.

 

_You better ask Hermione to the dance or I will so kick you!_

_P.S. Read this book. It will change your life. Forever. Because it is the best present ever. Because I bought it. Because I am the best._

_PONNIES!_

 

Lucas laughed and all thoughts of turning into a typical school bully left his mind. What in Merlin’s beard was he thinking? Perhaps having weird friends to kick some sense into him in weird ways wasn’t so bad after all.

 

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, followed by screams of surprise, followed by the sound of mooing cows, followed by insane laughter. And then, Lucas remembered Slytherin and Hufflepuff had Transfiguration class now and he made his way in the direction Joan had left in, vowing to sit next to her and watch her like a hawk before she/Loki got herself into more trouble.

 

He sighed loudly.

 

Why did he get the feeling he was going to play baby-sitter for the year and then some?

 

~

 

 **“JOAN SEVERUS SNAPE!”** MacGonagall bellowed, causing the rest of the class to snicker and Lucas to groan in exasperation.

 

Transfiguration had went _terribly_. But what else would one expect if the root of the problem was a dangerously skilled, thoroughly bored and restless trickster god. Well, no one else apart from him and MacGonagall knew, but still…

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean toooooooooooo!!” Joan all but wailed in misery for the 3rd time that day, the tip of her wand smoking, hair in a disarry, and black soot smeared across her cheeks.

 

Everyone in class resembled her in terms of appearance, including Professor MacGonagall who had just put the tiny flame at the ends of her hair, out between her fingertips.

 

At first, it all started with a few innocent pranks with the Gryffindor head’s hat disappearing or levitating every minute or so, which then transitioned to poor Susan’s butt kissing the floor with the sudden disappearance of her chair, to finally this: transfiguring the entire class’s quills into firecrackers.

 

“That’s an evening’s worth of detention for you, followed by a 5 metre-long parchment on the negative effects of Transfiguration!”

 

“But-“ Lucas tried to vouch for his friend but the stern look from Professor MacGonagall made him bite his tongue.

 

“Mr. Lucas, I believe you were considered lucky and even if you believe this is your business, right now, it is not. Class dismissed.”

 

Lucas growled and almost missed the announcement on the fourth year’s trip to Hogsmeade. Professor MacGonagall was busy collecting their permission slips and Lucas hurriedly dug out his. Next to him, Joan was about to do the same when the elder witch’s crisp voice stopped her.

 

“Except you, Miss Snape. Your detention begins now. You are to remain in this room until you have completed your assignment.”

 

Joan looked like she wanted to cry, but the soft and apologetic gaze her professor offered her spoke volumes. MacGonagall knew, but the deputy headmistress was fair; and in order to keep this secret, punishment should be dealt in accordance least suspicion should arise.

 

The students filtered out of class like a pack of wolves to a feast. Everyone usually looked forward to the annual Hogsmeade trip, but in lieu of the upcoming Yule Ball and Christmas, this second trip was a rarity in itself. It was also the perfect opportunity for the students of Hogwarts to do some last minute Christmas shopping, and getting their robes and dresses tailored.

 

Lucas nudged Joan gently.

 

“Hey, you’ll be alright? What about that meet-up with the guys?”

 

Earlier before class started and getting the girl under control when she was trying to surpress her newfound destructive pranking urges, Joan had mentioned her desire to show him and the golden trio something special in Hogsmeade. But the plan had obviously been thrown out the window. Damn that Loki was bloody annoying.

 

Joan, after much deliberation, cracked a wry smile. She then took out a crumpled receipt from her inner robe pocket and handed it to Lucas.

 

“DON’T open it!”

 

Lucas paused when he was about to unfold it. “What is this?”

 

She smiled, her ruby eyes twinkling in mirth as she offered a genuine smile, void of any mischief or malice.

 

“Oh, nothing much. Just stop over at M’lady Mackenzie’s with the guys and you’d know the rest. Merry Christmas.”

~

 

Hogsmeade was perpetually snowing. Perpetually. There was just something magical about this town, its people immersing themselves in a winter wonderland. Depending on the seasons, the skies would shift into beautiful and enchanting hues of mixed gradients. In spring, the skies were a clear blue, the snow feather-soft and teasing. Summertime promised soft golden skies and cotton-candy flakes sweet as nectar. Autumn soothed the soul with orange-purple shimmers of twilight and winter was a picturesque dreamscape of silver, white and blue.

 

Four pairs of legs trudged through ankle-deep snow-covered roads, its owners pulling their scarves and mufflers close as they shielded themselves against the occasional wintry breeze. They were pretty deep into the usually unventured parts of the town and were skeptical on ever arriving at their desired location.

 

“Oi, mate, we there yet?” Ron called out, irritable and shivering. “We’ve been going around in circles and still nothing! You sure she wasn’t pulling your leg?”

 

“Pretty sure. Dumb god can’t posses her body after those runes I read.”

 

“I don’t know, Lucas,” Hermione snapped. “Maybe you overlooked something. _Again._ Not surprising mind you.”

 

Lucas’ silver eyes flashed a dangerous glint and Harry quickly forced his way to walk between the two before things got ugly.

 

“Hey guys!” He grinned a painfully forced, wide smile as he pointed up ahead. “Is that it?”

 

Nestled comfortably between an adorable bakery and trinket shop, was a quaint little tailor shop that resembled a typical cottage often depicted in fairytales. The signboard above the door was of a witch on a rockingchair busy knitting the words “M’lady Mackenzie”. The cheery mushroom-like cottage was decorated with various Christmas decorations and candies, making it look more like a dollhouse than a shop. It even had a chimney that was puffing cute snowflake-shaped smoke.

 

The four walked up to the entrance and stared at the pink heart-shaped doormat and matching doorbell. Hermione cooed at the adorable design while Harry, Ron and Lucas stood there, awkward, and feeling terribly emasculated. Before they could knock however, the wooden door swung wide open to reveal a plump, cheery old lady with tiny glasses, short grey curly hair, and a lilac bonnet on her head. She wore a matching purple frock and shoes. It didn’t take the group long to realize she was M’lady Mackenzie

 

“Ah, good afternoon dearies! I’ve been expecting you! Come in, come in!” She ushered them in kindly, before closing the door behind them. She then reached over to a nearby table and offered them a plat of freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookies.

 

Ron and Lucas stared at the strange snack curiosly.

 

“What’s this?” The red head turned the cookie over this way and that and sniffed it, only to find the aroma incredibly tempting.

 

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes good-naturedly.

 

“Relax, guys. It’s just a cookie. Muggles eat it all the time.” Harry bit into his and munched on it greedily. “And don’t worry Lucas, it’s not poisoned.”

 

Said boy stopped glaring daggers at the innocent cookie, looked at Harry who dived for a second one, before biting into it cautiously. His eyes immediately lit up and it didn’t take long for both him and Ron to follow Harry’s example and dive for more. Soon, the stack of cookies disappeared and M’lady Mackenzie giggled.

 

“My, my, if I knew you boys were hungry, I would have made another batch!” Mackenzie took a quick glance at them before pouting.

 

“Is Miss Snape not with you? Pity, she’s a huge fan of my cookies. Gave me the recipe and all…” She levitated the plate to the back, probably to the kitchen, before clasping her hands together in excitement.

 

“Now then! Who shall we have first?”

 

“Er…” Lucas fished out a receipt from his pocket and handed it to the older witch.

 

With a wave of her wand, the receipt opened and out from it sprang elaborate designs and images of four different outfits. The first one was a casual black and grey dressrobe of tall and slim cut, perfect for broad-shoulders and an overall refreshing masculine build. The second was a black and white dress robe sprouting a smart, gentlemanly charm, finely and neatly cut to fit. The third was a similar coloured dress robe albeit more casual and without the bow-tie the second one had, trimmed for a broad and tall build. The final design was an endearingly sweet magenta evening dress, with beautifully selected materials and a slight flare to the skirt, giving it an almost princessy feel.

 

“Ah, right! Let’s get to work, shall we?” Mackenzie giggled and waved her wand about, calling her magical fabrics and tailoring tools alive as they zipped through the air, measuring the four friends here and there and sewing the outfits on their form.

 

When the task was complete, the tools returned back to their propoer places in the shop and Mackenzie approached to inspect each and every one of her creations. Frequent cooes of “How handsome!”, “Lovely!” and “Now don’t you look simply dashing!” escaped her lips and when they turned to stare at their reflection in the opposite mirror, they were lost for words.

 

The outfits were absolutely perfect and suited each one of them exceptionally well, as if these clothes were made to be worn by them and only them. The three boys looked handsome, and even that was an understatement, while Hermione… Hermionie looked…

 

Lucas’ jaw dropped as he took in the sight of the bushy haired girl whose current appearance could give Fluer Delacor a run for her money. The girl looked simply gorgeous in her sugar plum frock.

 

“Whoa…”

 

Hermione blushed, playing with the material of her skirt.

 

“I-I heard that… H-How do I look?” She gave a small twirl to emphasise her point. Lucas found himself blushing slightly and cleared his throat.

 

“Er… you look… nice…”

 

_What kind of answer was that?_

 

He mentally kicked himself. Behind him, Harry and Ron were watching the exchange enthusiastically, with Ron making a motion with his hand like a broom slowly soaring up to the sky diagonally. Cheeky looks were plastered on their face, but Lucas and Hermione were oblivious to them.

 

‘Come on, ask her already!’ their eyes seemed to say.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Yes, Lucas?”

 

Was it him, or was it getting hotter in here? Lucas tugged at his shirt collar nervously and tried to compose himself. This was it; now or never. He swallowed. Here goes.

 

“Well, you _probably_ don’t have a date for the ball, so…”

 

Hermione’s smile practically fell by an inch.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I mean, that is,” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “No one has probably asked you yet since you never said anything, so I was thinking-“

 

“That since both of us don’t have a date, we should go together?” Hermione interrupted albeit hurt, voice boarding on a dangerous, angry pitch. Lucas missed the anger in her voice.

 

“Well, it’s not that I _don’t_ have a date. It’s more of I just never asked anyone yet, and well… it’s not like I’d have a _problem_ getting a date…”

 

_Mayday, mayday, mayday!_

 

Ron’s hand plummeted downwards as he made an appropriate sound effect at the back of his throat. Harry could have smacked himself. He was no dating expert, but even he knew that Lucas needed serious help on how to talk to girls.

 

“ _FOR YOUR INFORMATION, SOMEONE’S ALREADY ASKED ME! AND I. SAID. YES.”_

Hermione shrieked in outrage and turned to stomp towards the back of the shop, away from the surprised Hufflepuff who was still having a tough time allowing the fact that he had been quite literally, rejected, to sink in. Was he the only one confused on what exactly he did wrong?

 

Ron made a distinctive sound of his hand-broom/plane crashing and Lucas turned to glare irritably at the two best friends. Harry sighed and patted the taller boy’s shoulder. It was time the three of them had some good, heart-to-heart guy-talk after this.

 

“Don’t worry, mate, she’ll come around.” Ron offered sympathetically, while Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Easy for you to say, Ron. You already _have_ a date.”

 

“What? Lavender asked _me._ Was I supposed to say ‘no’?”

 

Lucas sighed loudly and forced his anger down. No way in hell was he going to lose himself and hurt his friends again, even if a certain red-head was asking for it, and he seriously doubted a temper tantrum would impress the girl of his dreams, if not further infuriating her. He turned to face M’lady Mackenzie who looked extremely concerned for her young customers and by the mini-drama that just unfolded before her eyes.

 

“Oh my…” she tuttered. “Such a temper that one has. It will be wise for me to check up on her, least she decides to destroy my kitchen.”

 

She shook her head and then smiled at the three silent boys.

 

“Anyway, you dearies should run along now! It’s getting late and your professors might start to worry!”

 

“But what about the clothes? Don’t we need to pay for them?” Harry asked.

 

“Oh, heavens, no!” Mackenzie cried in a typical motherly fashion, waving her hands frantically. “They’re all already paid for, courtesy of Miss Snape of course!”

 

“ _What?!”_ The three boys shouted, and even Hermione had emerged from her hiding spot in the back room from what she heard. Mackenzie gasped and covered her mouth in surprise.

 

“You mean you sweethearts didn’t know? Oh my… I hope I didn’t ruin any sort of surprise?”

 

“But… why?” Harry asked softly, as he picked at his new dress robes almost guiltily and he didn’t need to look up to know the others felt the same same way. Mackenzie smiled warmly.

 

“Miss Snape is a peculiar but kind young darling. I’ve known her since she knew how to walk and Mr Snape would bring her here to get all her robes tailored. Miss Snape never had any friends when she was growing up, so when she asked me to do this for you lot, well! Well, I dare say, I’ve never felt happier!”

 

“Isn’t one robe itself expensive?” Lucas was touched. Living with Aberforth, it was a rarity he received anything particularly fanciful; and he barely even knew Joan long enough to warrant something like this.

 

“That, I believe is a secret between Miss Snape and myself. Mr Potter has no solid financial ties in this world, Mr Weasley barely has enough to go on as it is, Ms Granger is a pleasant influence in her life, and as for you,” Mackenzie’s eyes twinkled as she regarded the socially-awkward teenage boy. “You’ve helped Miss Snape a great deal and I think such sacrifice and friendship deserves some reward, no?”

 

Lucas couldn’t help but feel proud from that. It made him happy to know that he was being appreciated and not used. Mackenzie waved her wand and packed their purchases into neatly wrapped boxes, before shooing them out the door, not wanting them to get in trouble for staying out too long.

 

“You know, I used to think all them Slytherin lot were one and the same. Who would’ve thought, huh?” Ron said in glee, thankful that he didn’t have to wear the disgusting and embarrassing old robe from his Great Aunt Tessie.

 

“By the way, Ron? _How_ did you get Lavender Brown as your date to the ball?”

 

Ron shrugged.

 

“I don’t know. She just asked, mate. So what about you? Have _you_ asked her?”

 

Harry did a double-take.

 

“Asked who?”

 

“You know… Joan!” Ron nudged him playfully, but the grin fell flat when he failed to even arouse a blush or stammer from the dark haired boy. Instead, all he got was a deep contemplative look in Harry’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know, Ron… I was hoping to ask Cho for the ball actually…”

 

“Wait, what now?” Lucas joined in, scandalized. “I thought you liked Joan! Hell, the two were you were as obvious as a blood stain on a stark-white bedsheet!” Now _this_ made Harry Potter blush.

 

“N-No we weren’t! Besides, I’ve been wanting to ask Cho to the ball for the longest time…”

 

Hermione sighed and willed herself not to force any of her opinions upon her friend, even if the wizarding world’s savior happened to be pretty stupid. _Very_ stupid.

 

“You’ve liked Cho for so long, so just go for it.”

 

“Thanks, Hermion-“

 

“But,” Hermione interjected, determined to put her point across. “Harry, sometimes you have to remember: if you wait too long, you might just lose the best thing that could have been yours.”

 

There was a long pause, the weight of Hermione’s words hanging heavily on Lucas’ shoulders. Even though her speech was meant for Harry, Lucas chouldn’t help but feel it was an indirect advise for him. However, before he could brood about it any longer, Ron had let out a panicked cry and proceeded to drag them back towards the castle.

 

“Bloody hell! We’re late! MacGonagall’s gonna kill us!”

 

“Late for what, Ron?” Lucas picked up his pace.

 

“Dance lessons!”

 

Harry’s eyes bulged in horror.

 

**“WHAT?!”**

 

****

** Read and Review Please!  **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi guys, thanks for all the support thus far! We hope you've been able to keep up with the OC's well enough. Things will start changing vastly in storyline soon, so look out for it!**

**Lightning**

**Chapter 13**

"Put your hand on my waist, Mr Weasley."

There was a surprised squeak.

"Your what?"

A pointed look.

"My. Waist."

The entire Gryffindor house laughed at the scandalized look on Ron's face in contrast to the stern, expectant one of their head of house. Ron gulped and did as he was told, albeit hesitantly, only to have MacGonagall secure the appendage on her hip by placing her hand tightly over his. She released her hand to talk to the students. Ron's hand slipped. She brought it back up.

"Now, for the boys, always place your left hand on your partner's wai-"

Ron's hand slipped. She brought it back up.

"Waist. And your right hand should grasp your partner's left hand. Not too tightly mind you." Ron's hand dropped again. She pulled it back up and held it there this time.

The Gryffindors of all years were unabashedly chortling in laughter by this point, but MacGonagall either failed to notice or didn't care. This was something all of them had to go through at one point of their lives, and it was better now than never.

"Girls, place your right hand on your partner's shoulder like so –Ron stiffened upon contact- and your left hand in theirs. Ready?"

Ron closed his eyes and nodded in resignation. Why oh why did these things tend to happen to him? Now he was surely a public embarrassment to not only his peers but Lavender. He opened his eyes to peer over MacGonagall's shoulder to see the pretty brunette smiling enthusiastically at him, batting her eyelashes. He was so ready to get this demonstration over with and put on a  _real_  show for her.

In the background, Filtch and Mrs. Norris started up the music and the crowd watched as the odd pair moved surprisingly gracefully across the dancefloor.

"1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. Turn… repeat."

Harry was impressed by his friend's almost natural flair for the art of dance and he couldn't help but feel even more insecure and unconfident. How on earth could he pull his balls together and ask Cho to be his date, if he couldn't even  _think_  of impressing her with his terrible dancing. Alright, epic confession: Harry Potter does not dance.

The demonstration ended and MacGonagall ordered her students to pair up. Ron had literally flung himself away from the older witch and made a beeline towards the beaming and blushing Lavender. Hermione was kind enough to give Neville a chance who looked more than eager to prove that he could do this. Heck, even the Weasley twins had partners (probably their dates). Harry sighed and found his gaze meeting that of the shy, hopeful ones of Ron's little sister.

It was no secret that Ginny had a die-hard crush on him for reasons unknown, but it was unfortunate he didn't have any romantic feelings for the sweet girl. Now, if only Cho would like him the same way; perhaps working up the courage to ask her wouldn't be so bad that way. Harry sighed, stepped up to his younger partner, holding her gently as if she would break.

He could do this.

* * *

He  _couldn't_  do this.

Lucas buried his head in his hands and groaned in frustration, banging his head against the cover of Joan's self-help book. It took him forever to just get through  _one_  short chapter and at the rate he was going, he'd be close to Professor Sprout's age by the time he was done.

_Love is patient; love is kind._

Speaking of said professor, the Hufflepuff head was busy organizing the female students and the boys from Durmstrang. Since, to put things frankly, there wasn't enough females to go around, the Hufflepuff boys had to sit it out for a while until the students from Durmstrang were done with dance practice. The Ravenclaw house was experiencing the same problem as them with the Beauxbaton girls, with their male students falling short of supply.

_To receive love, one has to first give love._

Finding out Hufflepuff now had Durmstrang officially under its care, was bad enough – too many enemies, too many unpleasant memories. But, being in the same room with Victor Krum continuously, was worse. Every now and then, Lucas could feel hard and cold eyes bore at the back of his head, right through him and made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable and irritated. Why did he have the feeling the bulky guy didn't want him around, Lucas had no clue. All he knew was, Victor didn't like him and he didn't have any bloody reason to hold hands and run off into the sunset with him either.

_Love is selfless; love is trusting. Not even the eyes of jealousy can lay it to ruin._

The Durmstrang boys were done and when Lucas made his way to the dancefloor, he and Victor passed each other, roughly bumping shoulders. The tension was thick and there was definitely static between their gazes. As Victor stared Lucas down, he gave him a fierce glare that Lucas eagerly returned, before eye contact broke altogether in favour of Lucas facing his current dance partner.

_Courage is not bravado. Courage is strength of the heart._

Leanne stared up at Lucas in sheer awe and fear at the same time, her slightly puffy cheeks colouring a slight red, making her an adorable catch if Lucas did say so himself. He remembered this girl being close to Katie Bell or something, a fellow Gryffindor Hermione mentioned from time to time, as well as the popular Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. Looking at her closely, Leanne did seem to resemble Cho in certain aspects, like her feminity and appearance, such as their hair, face and eyes.

_Love looks not with the eyes; and therefore is winged cupid painted blind._

Doing what he was supposed to, Lucas pulled Leanne close, making the young witch squeak in surprise and embarrassment. Alarmed, Lucas stepped back a bit to give her some room. Perhaps he had been too forward?

"S-Sorry," Leanne stammered as she took his hand. "I've never done this before."

"No worries. I'm no expert myself."

The two of them danced slow and patiently, Leanne worried she'd step on Lucas' foot and Lucas's mind on other things. He tried to imagine the girl's bushy black hair as bushy brown, her cheeks thinning out to a sharper jaw, and her eyes to be less-rounded and more shapely in length. Lucas held his partner gently, treating her as he would Hermione.

He looked up to see Victor Krum giving him a victorious smirk and it was getting to him terribly.

"Hey, any idea why he seems to perpetually reserve his nasty looks for me?"

Leanne glanced up at the well-built Bulgarian when they turned.

"Katie told me that you like Granger.  _He_  is just jealous, especially since his date likes you back."

Lucas stopped suddenly to stare at Leanne with wide, disbelieving eyes. Okay then, Joan wasn't lying when she said the whole school, because apparently  _everyone_  knew. But the news of Victor and Hermione going to the ball together, affected him way more.

So that was what Hermione meant back at the tailor's – he blew it. Her wordings had been strange, almost as if she was hoping him to ask her despite Victor having done it before him. Was she hoping to be his date instead of Victor's? If so, why didn't she say so in the first place?!

Lucas' head swam. He really,  _really_  didn't understand girls.

Lucas eyes found the form of Cedric not too far from them. Ever since the tournament started, he had wondered how the Hufflepuff senior managed to cope. His face-off with the dragon back in round one was clean, swift and skilled, his spell-work well-versed and astounding. And since Cedric was the first one in his house to treat him with respect, he couldn't help but ask the next question.

"Well, since you know so much, any idea who Cedric's going to the dance with?"

Leanne pulled away to stare at him is shock.

"You mean you didn't know?! Cho of course!"

This was a  _complete_  waste of time.

Well, to Draco Malfoy anyway.

That bloody cookey senile old man of a headmaster  _obviously_  lost it, if previous cases failed to justify that enough. What sort of trival class was this? He didn't require dance practice; he was a Malfoy and Malfoys were brought up with the knowledge of social etiquette, dance, mastery of various languages, and the list went on. He was above such appalling standards.

He could be working on his potions assignment, or catching up on his studies to finally beat that insufferable Granger of a Mudblood, but nooooo – he had to be here in dance class, dancing with Pansy Parkinson no less!

"Oh Drakey ~ Isn't this fun? You and me, hand in hand… How romantic!"

' _BLAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH…'_

He hoped it didn't show on his face.

And that Blaise was nothing short of a bastard. A selfish, arsehole of a bastard that practically  _refused_  to come for dance practice because he  _never_  comes for balls to begin with and could get away with it because his reputation was so  _bad_  anyway. Draco on the other hand, did not have this luxury, for he was the son and only heir to the noble Malfoy name and whatever he did, jolly well reflected well in his father's eyes.

The previous stunt he pulled with Blaise and that Hufflepuff had gotten him into monumental trouble with his father, his punishment yet determined by said man, but no way in hell was he looking forward to it. He prayed fevertly that the man will let it slip, but that was wishful thinking on its own. However, he didn't fully regret it though. Joan needed his help and he'd be damned if he walked out on the girl when she needed him most.

Draco blushed at the thought of the strange yet sexy Slytherin. He knew she was a good friend, but sometimes he often found his mind wandering on the possibility of something more. The two of them would be perfect for each other, the prince and princess of Slytherin and Hogwarts, in each other's arms, dancing together til morning come. He will kiss her, smolder her with love and affection, and she will be his.

Alas, there were just some things in the way of that perfect vision: bothersome Potter, a random God of Lies, and now  _THIS._

"Drakey? Yoohoo ~ Aww… are you shy to be around me?" Pansy nuzzled into his chest. "It's okay. I love you too and everyone knows, so there's nothing to be worried about!"

For the love of Salazar, kill him now.

A cruel chuckle reverberated within her and Joan eye twitched for the third time that hour. She put her quill down and slammed her textbook shut.

"You know, I can't exactly concentrate when you're going about laughing at my friends' misfortune…"

_Why not? Their troubles please me. What fun it is to revel in the trivial worries of Midgardian teenagers._

"Then leave me and continue watching them for all I care! This assignment won't write itself!" Joan snapped, her patience in the other entity wearing thin.

There was a pause, before she felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders as Loki's spirit left her body. She breathed a sigh of content and relief. It was definitely no joke to maintain another life form in one body, much less put up with their incessant poking and prodding. Technically, the god of mischief was still very much bonded to her like she was to him, as were his magic, which would explain why he could only cast spells if she as his host, allowed him to, or if she failed to keep him at bay. And it was thoroughly draining to oppress Loki, which would also explain her negligence in class previously. It was far less bothersome to "let him out" than keep him in, and the god proved to be far less of a threat than expected, since Lucas had read the runes earlier, reinforcing the contract set upon him to obey his master's wishes.

Joan stared at the tall mirror opposite her, where the reflection of Loki stared back. The raven haired man was wearing yet another outfit, this one being a pair of black pants, black tunic and a fancy dark green and black form-fitting coat that went until the back of his knees. A pair of black leather boots finished off the smart look and Joan had to admit, she was very impressed with his sense of fashion.

"Tell me, do all gods look this attractive, or is it just you?"

Loki gave the girl a look of mild surprise, not expecting such a flirtatious statement.

"… Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment."

He stared at her expectantly, hands clasped in front of his body. A frown marred his handsome features, his eyebrow occasionally twitching in irritation, but apart from that, made no move of mischief. It was unnerving to see the older male so obedient, so inclined to her commands that it left Joan feeling a little guilty (a little only since he had tried to forcefully take over her body and harm her friends). Loki had tried earlier to leave her side and carry out some mischief, but the runes had burned a warning through his skin, causing him to cry out in agony and Joan to panic and fuss over him until the pain stopped. Now, Loki was reduced to asking permission, obeying his host and their commands, unless he could find a loophole in any.

It was terrible, the sight of a once powerful being reduced to a servant of a young 14-year-old girl. The humiliation was obvious and Joan could feel it run through Loki's veins in torrents. So, in order to help retain the god's dignity, Joan gave him as much freedom as she could permit depending on the circumstances.

She waved him off.

"Go on, go on. Just behave and remember: look, don't touch."

Loki frowned. Despite all he did earlier in the day, his master could still treat him with such respect and kindness. The idea was strange and didn't sit well with the god of mischief, who made it a point in his whole life to trust no one, deceive everyone, and remain at least five steps ahead of anyone. He was suspicious, but he wasn't gong to question the girl's generosity.

Joan watched as Loki walked out of the mirror and she returned to her books. Minutes passed before the man returned in the mirror, a sour and confused expression on his face. Joan would have laughed at that if not for the fact that it was directed at her. She returned her gaze back to her work and continued writing.

"Someone looks like he just swallowed a toad…"

"They have ceased in their lessons."

Joan quirked an eyebrow and looked out the window at the darkening sky. It had stopped snowing.

"Well, yeah. It's close to dinnertime, lessons are over for the day, and I'm still not done with this bloody assignment! What? No one to laugh at anymore?"

Yes, she was cranky and no, Loki wasn't helping.

The god continued to stare at her, a strange expression on his face that made Joan shift slightly in her seat. The look in his green eyes was so intense, it made the young witch nervous.

"W-What?"

"… The boy with the glasses. He was at the owlery with this 'Cho' female and conversing about this ball of Yule. What strange practice is this?"

Joan stiffened and lowered her gaze dejectedly, her hair shadowing her face as her lip trembled. She let out a soft sigh as she composd herself. Really, she should have known…

"It's called 'asking someone you like to be your date'. Don't you have something similar in Asgard? Or do gods do things differently?"

"… Date? I am afraid I do not understand you humans and your reference of time with a significant other."

Joan nearly smacked herself. Good lord, how should she explain this?

When Loki cocked his head curiosly and continued to stare at her, Joan abandoned her work and proceeded to educate her companion in Midgardian terminology.

"A 'date' is an event or activity where two people who posses romantic feelings for each other, go on. This period spent in each other's company, can involve various intimate activities from an innocent walk in the park to… bedding each other."

'God that was awkward,' she thought.

"A 'date' can also refer to the person involved in the relationship. For example, by saying 'This is my date', one is practically saying 'This is the person I like, have interest in, or care for'."

Loki rubbed his chin as he hummed in contemplation, absorbing this new information. Humans truly were complicated and peculiar creatures.

"Then what of you, young master? Do you have a 'date'?"

Joan sighed. No way was she going to get her work done at this rate.

"No."

"Whyever not?"

"Because no one's asked me."

"Then why not ask them?"

Another sigh.

"… Loki, just-… just drop it, ok? I got work to do."

Just then, Joan felt Loki's presence re-enter her body and take control of her right hand. Alarmed, she started to panic at first, fearful that the god was trying to execute a forceful takeover of her body again, but confusion settled in when all she saw was her hand scribbling speedily across the parchment. She was pretty sure she still had control of her body and mind, all except her right hand that is.

'Wha-what?'

_It is not as if you do not know this. You do. I am simply drawing forth the knowledge from your memory and hastening the process. You intrigue me. We have much to discuss._

15 minutes later, the 5-metre long parchment found its way atop Professor MacGonagall's table, while back in the classroom, Loki and Joan continued their discussion. She had almost forgotten that the god could assume a physical form if he willed and it felt better to actually be speaking face to face with someone rather than in her head. It was a pleasant exchange, void of any malice or contempt or schemings and Joan found herself actually enjoying the older male's company.

Joan taught him as much as she could about Midgardian terminology and answered all of Loki's questions to the best of her abilities. But as usual, the trickster managed to catch her off guard once again with one of his seemingly innocent questions.

"How is it that you do not have a date? I find this truth difficult to accept."

Joan laughed at his indignant statement.

"It's not that hard to believe, Loki," she offered him a small smile. "How is it you think I  _should_  have a date, then?"

She waited patiently for an answer, but when the silent god failed to dignify that with a response, she decided to change the subject.

"I know what everyone in Hogwarts is saying – that Harry and I are an item or something like that. There's no point in hiding it from you, because you practically live in my mind and know the truth anyway, so I'm just going to come out and say, yes, I like him… and probably a lot more than he feels for me."

Loki didn't fail to notice the disappointment and sadness in Joan's eyes. He almost regretted mentioning about this 'Cho' person. Alright, no he didn't. He always seized an opportunity to cause trouble or stir up ill feelings, and his master was no exception. But the fact that one simple  _boy_  could make his master feel this way, to actually  _give up_ where he, god of mischief, failed to accomplish, caused a deep jealousy to stir in his heart.

"And how do you know this?" Loki bit out. Thankfully, Joan failed to notice the resentment in his voice.

"Harry has  _always_  liked Cho, Loki.  _Always_. I'm just second-best."

And as soon as Joan said those words, something in Loki clicked. Somehow, he could relate to her – her frustration, pain and insecurity. It was just like how father and all of Asgard viewed and loved his brother over him: second place and a last resort. Perhaps this girl and him did have something in common.

"Do you dance?"

Joan gave Loki yet another strange look. What was with all these random questions?

"No… I never tried."

"Why?"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Just waiting for the right partner, I guess?"

Loki said nothing to that and the silence resumed. Just when Joan was about to pack up, Loki suddenly rose to stand before her, offering his hand, expression blank.

"The Yule ball is tomorrow night. I will not have you embarrass me, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard, with your pitiable skills or lack thereof, in the art of dance. Come."

Joan didn't know whether to feel insulted or pleased with Loki's apparent concern and offer to teach her how to dance. She stared at the pale, waiting hand suspiciously, almost daring it to gather and hurl a dark ball of energy at her face any minute, but nothing of the sort happened. With a resignated sigh, she took it, lacing their fingers together as he pulled her to her feet.

There was no room for awkwardness, because Loki had immediately brought the young witch close, trapping her in his firm yet gentle hold. Joan gasped and squeaked in shock, her face steadily growing red as she was pressed flush against the god's broad chest. She only reached until Loki's torso and since she was practically considered a child to this male, she couldn't help but feel small and powerless in his embrace.

Joan couldn't prevent the soft noises that escaped her throat when Loki's left hand caressed down the length of her right arm to wrap around her waist. Hesitantly, she placed her right hand on his shoulder and when she was ready, they began swaying and moving to a silent rhythm and beat. Their bodies were so close, neither needed to look down at their feet to anticipate which direction the other was going to take them. Instead, they kept their gazes locked, each of them falling victim to the other's mezmerising pools of red and green.

The look Loki was giving her was strangely gentle and Joan smiled, breaking eye contact to press her face against his chest. She sighed in content. She had no idea what spell Loki placed on her, but he was really warm and she felt so safe, so protected, like no harm would ever come to her as long as he was around.

Soon, they parted and Loki smirked at his master's flushed face when he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of her palm.

"And  _that_ , my young master, followed by my request, is how  _I_  would ask a maiden."

With that, Loki retreated into Joan's mind and continued with his reading, making the girl feel suddenly, very alone and oddly unsatisfied.

* * *

Harry stalked into the Great Hall, not exactly in a foul mood, but definitely radiating auras of negativity and depression. Cho had rejected him in the owlery yesterday and the truth stung. Moreover, she was going with someone else – he wasn't sure who for that matter, but he was too dejected to bother.

Harry groaned when he sat down at the Gryffindor table, burying his head in his hands. All around, everyone seemed to be totally elated about tonight's ball, chatting about their dates, their outfits, as well as the how fun and romantic it was going to be. Well, not for Harry and probably Lucas as well. The boy who lived chanced a glance at the Hufflepuff table to see said boy in the exact same position and state as him. A selfish part of him felt relieved that he wasn't the only one without a date/rejected by  _the_  girl of their dreams.

Next to him Hermione was reading as usual, leaving Harry be as she understood her friend needed his space when he got like that. Only his close friends knew what happened yesterday and respected his privacy. He couldn't say the same for Ron, however, who was busy making out with Lavender opposite him, the two oblivious to the uneasy and disturbed glares of their housemates.

Harry played with his cereal, not really in the mood for anything joyous really. Christmas was just around the corner, and he didn't feel no spirit of giving whatsoever.

"Hey, Harry, would you take a look at Malfoy? Poor guy. Funny sight though. The git had it coming," Fred leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear as he nodded in the direction of said blonde who was busy occupying himself by creating as much space between him and Pansy.

The dark haired girl was persistent though, cooing after him with puckered lips and out-stretched hands, while Malfoy simply looked mortified. Harry laughed at his rival's predicament, perhaps a tad too evilly. So what if he was feeling particularly cynical today? Who. Bloody. Cared?

'Certainly not Cho,' Harry found himself thinking bitterly.

He shook his head and decided to concentrate on something else. He found his gaze travelling towards the front of the hall where the professors sat, more specifically at Professor Snape who was in deep conversation with his daughter. Snape had an expression on his face that was a cross between worry and displeasure as he checked his little girl, placing a hand on her forehead, looking her hands over, and turning her around. He then said something else that got the raven haired girl pouting and hitting the man playfully. Snape stuck out his finger in warning and she rolled her eyes in good humor, before her eyes found that of Harry's.

Joan's breath hitched at the sight of brilliant green, instantly reminded of her exchange with the god of lies.

'Loki's eyes are greener…' she found herself thinking, and mortified by her thoughts, she quickly took her leave and made her way out of the Great Hall.

She walked past Harry, her delightful scent wafting through his nostrils and the boy knew it was better late than never. He rose and followed her.

"Hey, Joan, wait!"

* * *

Harry continued waving his hand over Ron's eyes, but still failed to receive a response from the red head, who had been in the same wide-eyed state for the past five minutes. Next to him, Lavender looked overly concerned as she tugged at her date's arm desperately.

"Ron-ron! Oh, Ron-ron! Speak to me!"

"V-V-V-V…"

Well, at least they were getting somewhere.

In front of them, Hermione rolled her eyes in complete exasperation. Goodness, could Ron try not to embarrass her and himself in front of her date? She turned to smile apologetically at the handsome, stoic boy's face.

"I'm so sorry, Victor. Ron's just… a really huge fan," she turned to shoot Ron a pointed stare, gritting her teeth. " _Isn't that right, Ron?"_

"V-V-V-V-"

"Hah! Looks like the  _Weasel's_  finally run out of something intelligent to say. Then again, intelligence is completely lost on him!"

Harry, Hermione and Lavender whipped around sharply to glare at none other than Draco Malfoy who had just descended the flight of stairs with Pansy in hand. The blonde and his date would have looked stunning this evening if not for the sneers plastered on their faces. Ever since breakfast this morning, Malfoy had gone back to his usual obnoxious self and resumed his daily routine of putting down Potter and his friends. The Slytherin prince had only tolerated them because of a particular someone, and that particular someone had managed to indirectly break the blonde's heart, unknowingly, but good enough to make things go back to the way they were.

Harry managed a smirk.

"Bugger off, Malfoy! You're just sore that Joan agreed to be  _my_  date,  _not_  yours!"

Talk about rubbing salt to a wound. Draco was fuming and it took much restraint on the blonde's part to not scream and tackle the cocky Gryffindor to the ground. He turned his nose up and huffed.

"Hardly."

"Urgh! Drakey, look! There's Potter's bitch now!" Pansy whined, pointing up at the flight of stairs.

Harry and Draco's breaths caught in their throats as both of them simultaneously swallowed, their hearts beating a rhythm against their chests at the arousing sight before them. At the top of the stairs stood Joan Snape in probably the most daring of gowns tonight – a tight-fitting black tube dress that hugged her slender frame elegantly, with a high slit up the side of her left leg, and two large holes that cut at the sides of her waist, exposing the smooth skin there. She had on black nail polish, dark green and black makeup, and had cut her hair into a short China doll style that framed her face cutely.

Harry and Draco's eyes trailed down from her face, slender neck, past the graceful dip of her collarbone, down her waist and the slender exposed leg that just barely peeked out. Really, the dress didn't leave much to the imagination.

Joan's eyes sparkled in glee when her gaze found Harry's.

"Harry!" she breathed and descended the steps as quickly as her dress allowed it and flung her arms around the startled boy's shoulders.

"I didn't think you'd ask me… thank you."

Harry hugged her back albeit awkwardly. His fingers itched to touch, but he had to remain a gentleman, at least when it was absolutely necessary like when they danced.

"Ok, break it up you two," Hermione chided, winking at Harry discretely and mouthing the words 'good luck'.

Harry was about to make a teasing comment back at her and Victor, when MacGonagall interrupted the group and began ushering them into the Great Hall. All champions and their dates were to have the first dance to officially open the Yule ball, so Ron, Lavender, Draco and Pansy had to leave.

Once in the Great Hall, Ron finally seemed to snap out of it.

"Victor Krum! Sign my chest!"

Lavender sighed melodramatically.

"Oh, Ron-ron… you just missed him."

Back outside the Great Hall, the champions were all getting lined up. The first pair was Fleur and Roger Davies, followed by Victor and Hermione, Cedric and Cho, and finally Harry and Joan. The boy who lived kept his eyes fixed at the back of Cho's head longingly and seeing the pretty Ravenclaw's hand in Cedric's stung more. He should have known someone like him stood no chance against the dashing and charming prefect.

He gasped when he felt slim and delicate digits link with his, the person's hold reassuring and full of gentle warmth. He turned to look at the smiling face of his date, the Slytherin who could probably rival Cho in terms of looks. Joan's eyes held so much love that all thoughts of Cho completely left Harry's mind, so much so that he actually did something he never thought he'd dare to do to a girl. Making sure that no one was looking, Harry cupped Joan's face with his free hand, leaned in and placed a chaste kiss at her temple. He could distinctly hear her sigh in content, but before he could say anything, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the jitters immediately took over.

Joan did her best to reassure her date that he would be fine, while looking over her shoulder back up the flight of the main stairs. She frowned. The ball was starting. Where in the name of Salazar Slytherin was Lucas?!

* * *

Neville huffed and panted, throwing his dorm room open. He took a minute to catch his breath, before flinging himself at his side of the room and rummaged through his possessions. The five champions had just opened the ceremony a few minutes ago, and it was now the time for everyone else to dance and make merry. Also, the Weird Sisters were playing and he definitely didn't want to miss that.

For the third time that evening, Neville cursed himself for forgetting to bring the golden hair clip he got for Ginny, down. He had planned to present it to her before they started dancing, and thanks to his terrible memory, he had left his date waiting for him, alone on the dance floor, instead.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

He was about to flip a table when he noticed a thick book sitting innocently on said table, with the hair clip in question, placed next to it. Neville pocketed the glittering trinket first, before reaching over to look the book over curiosly. It was an encyclopedia about all things plants, but judging by its special print and him having never seen it before in the library, it was probably advanced material for Herbology studies. And being a herbology enthusiast, Neville couldn't resist opening it.

A piece of parchment greeted him and Neville put the book down in favour of reading the short letter. His eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

_Longbottom,_

_My deepest apologies during class those days ago._

_Had I known about your parents, I wouldn't have asked you about the curses._

_This book is part of my collection and I thought you might enjoy it. Sprout says you've a knack for Herbology._

_Regards,_

_Moody._

Neville folded the parchment and placed it back inside the book, before taking his leave. As he ran back to the Great Hall, his footsteps felt lighter. Maybe Professor Moody wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

" **YOU. SUCK. YOU AND YOUR LIIIIEEEEEEEEESSSS."**

Lucas cracked his eyes open and looked bemusedly at the attractive teen at the entrance of his room. On normal circumstances, he would have gawked and possibly pass out from a nose bleed at what the girl was wearing, but since she had unmistakenably woken him up from his nap, Lucas wasn't feeling too particularly himself.

He sat up on his bed and stretched, showing off his impressive muscles that caused Joan to sputter for a while, but quickly resumed her shouting.

"You promised! You said you asked her!  **Y U NO TELL ME THE TRUTH?!** "

Now was probably the wrong time to laugh.

Even when he really wanted to.

"No, I believe you just assumed all on your own that I was going to the ball with Hermione. I said no such thing."

"But-but the book! THE BOOK!"

Lucas sighed and motioned for his friend to come over, which she did, albeit moodily. He filled her in on what happened back at the tailor's, about how badly he screwed up and that Victor was out for his blood if he so tried his luck with Hermione again. Although Lucas wasn't the type to give up so easily, he strangely couldn't will himself to change and go down to the Great Hall and give the obnoxious Bulgarian a piece of his mind. The fact that Hermione would be there,  _with_  Victor Krum, and still upset with him, was enough to turn him off.

"Look, Joan, Hermione doesn't want anything to do with me. She's with Victor. I don't wanna ruin her night, okay?"

He was starting to feel steadily unnerved by the Slytherin's wide grin. Joan puffed her chest out proudly and pumped a fist into the air, striking a dramatic pose. Lucas sweat dropped.

"You POOR, STUPID, SOCIALLY-AWKWARD boy-"

"Hey, you shut up for just a-"

"Do not fear the Krum, for he is just as POOR, STUPID, AND SOCIALLY-AWKWARD as you, if not worse!"

"Now you stop right-"

"Just go there, own him, show him who's boss, and sweep Hermione off her feet," she was right up in Lucas' upset face, grinning wider than ever before.

"SHE WILL LIKE THAT VERY MUCH, YES."

Lucas struggled for words; anything to stop this deranged girl's deluded advice.

"Er… but didn't the book say that violence is not the key to a woman's heart?"

"… VERY GOOD. YOU HAVE OBVIOUSLY READ THE BOOK."

Joan relaxed and with a wave of her wand, brought Lucas' dress robes out of the package to lay it before him on the bed. She offered him a kind smile and punched his arm playfully in encouragement.

"So, what are you waiting for, prince charming? Cinderella ain't got the whole night, you know."

Hermione giggled when Victor lifted her up into the air in a twirl, before lowering her to resume their dance. She donned the very gown Joan got her for her present and did up her normally bushy hair into a messy yet elegant bun. Earlier, she had received various compliments and jealous stares for her sudden transformation and for once in her life, she relished in it. Tonight was her night and nothing was going to ruin it for her. Not Ron (his obsession was unhealthy), not Malfoy, not Pansy (the number one jealous female), not some god of mischief (she prayed that Joan had him under control), and definitely not Lucas.

She pondered over her relationship with said Hufflepuff and was confused as to when it went in a downwards spiral out of control. It seemed that no matter what Lucas did or said, managed to infuriate her, pull at her strings and pressed at her buttons. No one other than that boy had the ability to evoke such onslaught of emotions from her, not just negative but… positive too.

She was angry at him. Angry that he was so confident of himself, angry that he thought he was so darn good at everything, angry that he was so rough and had temper problems, angry that she managed to get him to change but he had forgotten, angry that he got popular when she was left in the dark, angry that he looked at other girls now instead of only her, and angry that he wasn't her date to the ball…

Hermione was angry at many things, but she knew that the person she was really angry with, was herself. She knew she was stubborn and had too much pride to admit her feelings; and now that she thought about it, all of this hurt, pain and complications could have been avoided if she just told Lucas why she had been so angry at him after his chess game with Ron, in the first place.

It all went back to that petty jealousy. And it was stupid.

"Herrmione, are you alright?" Victor interrupted her thoughts. She smiled at him.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry for spacing out, Victor… There's a lot on my mind ever since the tournament started."

Victor spun her around and brought her close.

"You don't have to worry about me, Hermione. I will get through this tournament without a scratch and bring honor and glory to Durmstrang."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, men could be so full of themselves! Did it kill them to stop and think for a second that the world did not just revolve around them?

"Erm, excuse me."

Victor felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to fix the new comer with a heated glare. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Speak of the devil, it was Lucas, dressed to kill and with clumps of swooning fangirls behind him. However, he didn't pay them any heed, concentrating on the task at hand: being the nice guy.

"What do you want, punk?"

Lucas held his hands up in defense.

"Hey, relax, Krum. I don't want any problems. All I'm asking is if…" he trailed off hopefully to peek at Hermione who blushed in understanding. "If I could dance with Hermione. Just one dance is all I'm asking for, and you can have her the whole night."

Victor growled possessively and forced himself between the two to glare resentfully down and the younger boy.

"No. And you have three seconds to get out of here before I pound some sense into you."

Lucas frowned and refused to back down.

"I think Hermione has the right to decide what she wants. Have you considered that before deciding for her, Krum?"

Hermione screamed and suddenly, a fist swung his way and knocked Lucas clear off his feet to land on his side on the floor. He groaned and massaged his cheek, snapping his jaw back to place. That wasn't so bad; he had endured far worse, but he knew he was probably digging his grave now.

A crowd started to gather around them, choruses of 'Fight! Fight Fight!' carrying around the hall. Lucas rose to his feet to regard his rival. Damn, he thought he could come out clean from this. Hermione was busy tugging on Victor's sleeve, desperately begging the bigger boy to stop it and not hurt her friend, but he ignored her and moved forward to grab the collar of Lucas' dress robes. He hurled him up, Lucas' feet barely touching the ground.

"You want Hermione? Then let's see who's worthy of her praise."

"I won't fight you, Krum," Lucas said in warning, oppressing his anger, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Hermione is not a prize to be won! The decision is hers to make and it doesn't involve you or me!"

Something in Hermione's eyes shone, the weight of Lucas' words touching a special part in her heart. There was something different about Lucas tonight. He was exhibiting a different kind of courage - a courage that encompassed chivalry and maturity.

And it was all for her.

Something in Victor snapped and he drew his fist back as Lucas shut his eyes. Just when he thought the Bulgarian was going to beat the living daylights out of him, Karkaroff pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed his student roughly by the shoulder, barked at him in furious disappointment for embarrassing him and all of Durmstrang, before ordering him out of the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors boomed shut, the Weird Sisters resumed their playing and everything returned to normal. Ignoring the whispers and cheeky looks from the rest of the students, Hermione flew to Lucas' side and proceeded to fuss over him, close to tears after witnessing what had happened, the guilt eating at her.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" she mumbled over and over again as she held Lucas' cheek tenderly, her mind in so much panic that she forget she could heal him with a wave of her wand and a quickly uttered spell.

Lucas grunted.

"No, don't," he placed his hand over hers and stared deep into her chestnut eyes.

Hermione's breath caught at the intensity of his silvery stare, his eyes enough to convey the message his lips so longed to say. They held so much love, so much care, concern and sincerity that Hermione's knees started to grow weak. Lucas quickly pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned their foreheads against each other. He chuckled.

"So, does that mean I get one dance with you?"

"No," she wrapped her hands around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"You have me the whole night."

By this point, Lucas' face was a bright red and he was thankful that the lighting of the Great Hall grew dim when a slow song came on. As the couple swayed slowly to the beat, Lucas chanced a glance in the distance of a smirking Harry and Joan who gave him a thumbsup. He shot a smile back, before laying his head atop Hermione, breathing in her calming and lovely scent that was Hermione;  _his_  Hermione.

He cleared his throat.

"Erm, Hermione?"

A smile.

"Yes, Lucas?"

"I'm sorry, for everything. I don't even know where to start. It's just… you have a way of making me lose control, in both a good and bad way. I care a lot about what you think of me, and when you get upset or angry, it hurts me a lot more than Trelawney's classes."

Hermione giggled and to Lucas, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He swallowed. It was now or never.

"Hermione, what I really want to say is…" He stopped dancing. "I… I…"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. Harry and Joan crossed their fingers. And Lucas squeezed his eyes shut.

"I like you. I like you a lot and…"

"And?"

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"And I was wondering if… if…"

"If?"

"If you would… if you would…" he blushed furiously.

"If you would be my girlfriend."

"… Finally!"

"Wha-?!"

It happened just like that and Lucas' eyes bulged from he shock of a pair of soft, sweet lips against his, smoldering him in an eager, desperate kiss. Hermione had practically leaped at him and he stumbled back, arms wrapped around her waist to keep both of them from falling over. And before he knew it, he was kissing back, if not more passionately than he ever imagined. Wolf whistles and cat calls sounded, but the pair were literally, too into each other to bother. All that existed tonight was this, them and the future.

In the distance, Joan sighed in content. She always did love a happy ending. Besides, the two were so  _obvious_  it was about damn time anyway. She felt familiar fingers lace between hers and looked down to smile at her hand in Harry's. Tonight couldn't be more perfect.

However, the moment ended when Harry spotted a dark-cloaked stranger at the far end of the room slink into a corner and then out through the doors of the hall. There was just something about the man that unsettled Harry, and for some strange reason he was compelled to follow him and find out his identity. It was like an overpowering sense of déjà vu – he knew this man, and yet he didn't.

"Sorry," was all he said, before he withdrew his hand and made a mad dash out of the hall, leaving Joan confused and alone to her thoughts.

The raven-haired girl looked around, disoriented. Around her, everyone was dancing, and by everyone she meant the professors too. Even Hagrid seemed to be having a ball of a time with Madame Maxime. Another slow song striked up and Joan decided to take her leave before she could further embarrass herself that her date  _actually_  left her and without a reason to boot!

She turned, only to stop in her tracks at what or rather, who she saw standing before her. No one could mistaken the slicked back midnight hair, black and dark green robes, tall well-built figure, and alluring green eyes of the Asgardian prince. Had he been exploring the castle? No wonder she didn't feel the need to oppress him within her.

"L-Loki? What in Salazar are you doing here?!" she hissed, eyes darting about left and right in panic and taking in all the curious and interested stares of the surrounding on-lookers.

Whispers of 'Who's that?', 'He's bloody hot' and 'Is he a new professor? Because if he is, I would love him to teach me how to behave' transpired around the room in little pockets. From the smirk on Loki's face, she could tell the god was indulging in the attention he was receiving. Joan snarled. Why, oh, why, was she cursed to look after the all-annoying-one?

She marched up to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. He quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"Go back in my head. Sit. Stay. Good boy."

Loki laughed and Joan grew desperate.

"Loki,  _please!_ " she begged. "The professors can see you!"

Chancing a glance up at the front where the professors were all dancing, Loki grabbed Joan's wrist and tugged her to a particularly crowded area on the dance floor, away from the professors and aurrounded by other students. He smirked down at her.

"Better?"

Joan looked floored.

"No!"

Loki chuckled and caressed his master's face in mock fondness, causing a pleasant shiver down Joan's spine. His eyes darkened in desire as he took in the state of her clothing, raking hungrily over her body. Without so much of a warning, he laced their fingers together, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and pressed her flush against him like he did yesterday. But this time, due to the design of her dress, Joan could feel her god so much more, with his hand grasping the skin of her waist, the contact and warmth sending a thrill through her veins.

"Come now, child. You say no, but your body says yes," He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Let's dance."

With a snap of the god's fingers, the music changed into one that was more upbeat and in the fogginess of her mind, Joan distinctively heard the familiar rhythm and beat of 'Americano'. She quirked and eyebrow in question when Loki started to dance around her, coaxing her to join him and after observing his moves, she did.

The whole thing felt like a dance-off and coupling all the same, their fluid movements and seductive twists and grinds succeeding in drawing the attention of the other students instead of remaining inconspicuous. However, neither of them seemed to care, enjoying themselves way too much.

It had been years since he danced and even longer when he felt so carefree.

Loki grinned when he and his young partner met up midway once again to entangle themselves in each other's embrance. Wrapping one leg around his waist and her hands around his neck, Joan lowered her upper body in a fluid dip with Loki's hand supporting her thigh and back, before she was back up and dancing again. The fever grew passionate and hot and by now, a crowd had gathered around the pair as well as any other couple who dared challenge them.

As Joan and Loki moved, they noticed Lucas and Hermione dancing nearby who offered them twin looks of bewilderment. Joan just shrugged and laughed when Loki lifted her up and spun them around. Not knowing what else to say or do, Lucas and Hermione shrugged and followed the pair's example, enjoying the moment and not judging. Lucas leaned down to plant a quick kiss on Hermione's nose, chuckling softly when  _his_  now-girlfriend pouted before capturing his lips in another playful kiss.

Now it felt like Christmas.

Everyone was entitled to their happiness tonight, everyone except a jealous blonde Slytherin as he eyed the master and her servant from the side. He bit his lip and stalked away, ignoring the confused and hurt cries of his date. And as 'Americano' drew to a close in the background, right before the eyes of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Loki pulled Joan in for deep, passionate kiss.


	14. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lucas, Draco and Blaise sat silently and awkwardly in the waiting room of the Medical Wing as they awaited further instructions from the headmaster. After placing Joan under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Dumbledore had turned stern, unyielding eyes to Draco, Blaise and Lucas, the semi-glare a promise that he would speak of the terms of their punishment later. Severus had been too worried for his daughter’s well-fare that he simply ignored the three and followed the Mediwitch inside. The headmaster, headmistress and potions master hadn’t left Joan’s quarters since.

 

Ron leaned over to whisper into his best friend’s ear.

 

“Hey, mate? What do you think Dumbledore meant when he said Joan ‘would never be the same again’?”

 

“I… I don’t know Ron.”

 

Harry clasped his hands together and hunched over, troubled. Ron patted him on the back in assurance. He cracked a small smile despite the circumstances.

 

“Harry, why the long face? It’s Joan we’re talking about. Not even a potion-gone-wrong would be enough to keep her down.”

 

“That’s what I don’t get,” Lucas interrupted, brows furrowed in confusion. “ _How_ could Loki’s Daybreak have gone wrong? All the ingredients, proportions, preparations… We did _everything_ right; right down to the type of vial to store it in.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. “ _Obviously_ it’s not the potion – he would not take too kindly to others incinuating his incompetence towards potion making – but Joan’s meeting and bond with the god of mischief himself… that is if there really is a god of mischief.”

 

“ _Of course_ there is,” Hermione berated not just Draco, but those who were involved with the potion’s creation. She would’ve loved to give Joan a piece of her mind as well, but since she was out cold, she figured she could save it for later.

 

“How else do you think Loki got his name among mortals as a trickster? He lures victims with such temptations and they all prove to be the victims’ undoing!”

 

“Well, whatever,” Lucas leaned back against his seat, hands supporting his head. “Point is, I cast the counter-spell and Joan remembered who she was. The bond’s only temporary. I’d say things would more or less get back on track.”

 

Blaise ‘humphed’ at the boy’s confidence and complacency but said no more.

 

**_“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!!!”_ **

****

A loud crash startled the group of friends, followed by many more noises of things getting thrown around and broken. They could hear the frantic scrambling of feet and Madame Pomfrey’s hasty command to hold the girl down.

 

The six friends wasted no time and barged right in, only to witness three pairs of hands holding Joan down as Madam Pomfrey administered a syringe of ‘Dreamless Sleep’. Joan was kicking, screaming and generally thrashing around in bed. Her face was contorted in rage and desperation. And it was either just them, or was there this swirl of dark aura that clung and hugged the girl, almost humanoid in form but also not quite.

 

That was how they found her and they all wondered if their eyes were playing tricks with them, before Joan’s red eyes slowly slid close as the potion started to take effect.

 

~

 

“It was the most horrible sound in the world,” groaned Ron. “It sounded like a dozen babies screaming and dying. At once.”

 

“Oh, stop exaggerating Ron,” chirped Hermione. “It wasn’t that bad.”

 

“Ignore her, Ron,” muttered Harry, sounding slightly meaner than usual. “She’s only saying that because she’s wasn’t standing close enough to pass out from the shock.”

 

Two days had passed by in the blink of an eye since the disaster that was the First Task. Joan had gone into a coma since that day she had woken up screaming, and she hadn’t budged since.

 

In the meantime, life had gone on for the rest of Hogwarts. Snape was perpetually angry and frustrated during lessons, even towards the Slytherins. Malfoy, Blaise and Lucas had disappeared off the face of the earth since that day, much to the chagrin of the three Gryffindors who still hadn’t been completed sure of exactly how this had happened.

 

Dangerous or not, the potion and Harry’s flying had provided such a incredible display of tactics, skill and magic that the judges gave him and Joan 1st place ahead of the other champions. This was small consolation to Joan’s condition though, so despite wanting to wait for her to wake up; Harry was convinced by the others into trying out the egg first.

 

However, opening the egg had unleashed screams of terror that transcended the natural mind, so hellish that the three boys (Ron, Harry and Neville) who had been idiotically putting their ears next to it collapsed instantly. This inevitably led to our heroes walking out of the hospital wing an hour later, right to where they were having this conversation.

 

“Harry James Potter,” complained Hermione haughtily. “I know you’re worried about Joan, but we’re on _your_ side. Could you quit being such a…”

 

And she let out a series of expletives that were very un-Hermione. Ron was so shocked that he almost fainted again, and Harry’s jaw hit the floor. She had definitely hung out with Lucas too much.

 

To be fair, Hermione seemed to have much reason to be upset as well. Being the only person amongst the three of them who actually understood why Loki’s Daybreak was dangerous, she was the most upset with the three boys who had gone M.I.A after ‘leaving poor Joan dying in the hospital wing’. Harry guessed her anger was especially more with a certain silver-eyed boy who had yet to explain himself.

 

Still, Harry just couldn’t sympathize. Hermione hadn’t quite taken the time to explain what Loki’s Daybreak had done to Joan (‘Harry, we actually still have to do schoolwork’ she complained when he had bugged her in the library) and had simply summed it up vaguely as very dangerous.

 

Spiders, Trolls and Devil’s Snare were very dangerous.  This potion just seemed a lot worse than that.

 

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said hurriedly, shaking off his shock. Hermione seemed to have realized this too, because she looked decidedly embarrassed. “It’s just…”

 

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

  
“We should really find those three soon.”

 

Ron groaned as his two moping friends entered the Common Room. “Blimey, I don’t get it at all.”

 

“You’ll understand sometime, mate,” said Harry, slapping Ron on the back. He tossed his egg on the sofa. “I really wonder…where did those three go?”

 

~

 

As a matter of fact, said three boys were already back in Hogwarts, after a temporary suspension pending investigation from the Hogwarts staff. The three were standing awkwardly outside Defence Against the Dark Arts class, where they had been told to see Professor Moody upon their arrival.

 

Malfoy and Blaise looked at Lucas, who simply stared back. Even though the three of them were experiencing the same ordeal, this did not mean they were extremely close friends or anything. The two sat across the Hufflepuff, occasionally trading a look.

 

“So,” started Lucas, leaning comfortably against the wall. “Anyone else get a Howler?”

Blaise smirked, at the same time that Draco cringed.

 

“Guess that’s a yes.”

  
“Mum expected to send one every week for me, so she was actually quite pleased I’m making a name for myself here.” Blaise chuckled. “She just expressed it loudly.”

 

It was clear from Malfoy’s face that it had certainly not been the same case for him.

 

“Cheer up, Draco,” said Lucas sympathetically.

“It’s Malfoy to you, Lu-“ He paused, realizing he had no idea of what Lucas’ last name was. The Hufflepuff grinned back.

 

“That happens a lot.”

Malfoy let out a snort. “What’s your last…”

 

But he was interrupted by heavy footsteps and shadows overlooking the seating area they had stood nearby. The three boys directed their attention to the huge group of Hogwarts students, apprised mostly of 1st year boys carrying huge banners, flags and poster exclusives.

 

“Malfoy!”

 

Their eyes widened. All of them were of _Joan_.

 

“We be the Joan Snape fan club,” declared the leader, a big Hufflepuff that looked like he could have eaten both Crabbe and Goyle. “And we gon’ be put some hurt into y’all wankers for hurtin’ Joan!”

 

“Are you serious?” choked Malfoy exasperatedly. “You didn’t even know who she was yesterday!”

 

Lucas blinked. “And could you stop talking like that? No one can understand anything you’re saying.”

 

“Whut?”

  
“Enunciate,” said Blaise, slowly and patronizingly. “It’s not very difficult.”

 

“That’s it,” uttered Lucas. “I officially hate people. All of you are stupid.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“And by all of you I especially mean you, kid. What is with your outfit?”

 

The big Hufflepuff was wearing a sash with ‘Joan Snape is our Idol’ on it, making him look very much like a bad beauty contestant. His blubbering figure at Lucas’ sudden statement did not help him any.

 

“Do you intend to ‘put some hurt’ into us with that?” said Blaise scathingly. “Your flagpole AND your flag is made out of parchment.”

“Which is really expensive,” pointed out Malfoy. “And impractical.”

“How does your mum feel about that?” asked Lucas.

 

“Wha…what?” The fan club was incredibly stunned by this sudden turn of events.

 

“It must have taken very long to make…” said Lucas admiringly. “…Oh, look at that.”

Without warning, sparks ran through the flags the kids were carrying, and lit ablaze almost instantaneously.

 

“Wow, how awful!” he remarked. “Hours of hard work gone in seconds. You must feel devastated.”

“Utterly.”

“Completely.”

 

One boy looked quite ready to cry. Another boy, who had his robes set on fire, had already wet his pants. The leader quickly composed himself.

 

“Get them!”

  
“Don’t slip,” said Blaise with a sneer, as he hit the floor with a friction-reduction charm. The dozen or so boys rushing towards them slipped and fell over on top of each other. Screams of pain ensued.

 

“Are you brats for real?” scoffed Malfoy, his blonde hair and blue eyes flickering dangerously. “Maybe you could try again when you’ve grown some balls. Get out of my sight.”

 

The kids scrambled to their feet, running away as soon as they could.

 

“Nicely done.” Lucas grinned, patting Malfoy on the back. “That was actually pretty satisfying. I could get used to this whole bullying thing.”

 

Malfoy twitched. No one had ever actually SAID he was a bully.

 

“I’m not a bully,” he protested.

“Sure, man. Sure.”

 

Just then, the door to the classroom swung open wide.

 

~

 

Mad-Eye Moody’s gaze scanned the three boys standing in front of him. They were not in the least bit remorseful at all.

 

He grinned.

 

“Interesting dark magic, boys. Very interesting. We should really…”

 

But just then, an owl flew in the window, chirping loudly. Mad-Eye snatched the letter out of the air, gazing over its contents before placing it down with a sigh.

 

“Well, this conversation will have to wait. Lucas, Malfoy, Zabini. Report to the headmaster now.”

 

Silver eyes traded anxious looks with the other two. But this was not unexpected, it was inevitable. They had their part to play in what happened; full well knowing the consequences of what could be. With a weary sigh, the boys took to their feet and left the room.

 

The walk down to Dumbledore’s office seemed to take forever. The three unconsciously walked in formation, scaring off anyone they happened to pass by. Every few seconds or so, Lucas would look to his right at both the Slytherin boys; neither of them showed an ounce of contrite. If anything, Malfoy’s nose could not possibly be higher. It was somewhat assuring.

 

Without the potion she could have died, justified Lucas to himself. And with the potion, she could have died too. But there had been a lower chance with the potion…right?

_That’s all there is to it_ , affirmed Lucas to himself. _That’s our defense._

 

‘Chocolate Crickets’ got them past the stone gargoyle. McGonagall was waiting for them, a stern look on her face. Surprisingly enough, it was not one apprehensive or judging. Lucas heavily suspected it was because something far worse was up ahead.

 

“Follow me,” said Minerva simply. Those words had that hint of finality; it was a bad sign.

 

Instead of walking straight on ahead down the Headmasters corridor, a door magically appeared on the side of the wall. Entering it, they found a steep spiral staircase made out of stone, without handrails. The boys had to cautiously follow the surprisingly nimble Gryffindor teacher up, without risking falling down hundreds of steps. It looked like this route hadn’t been used in centuries.

 

Maybe it hadn’t.

 

The courtroom had clearly been designed for mock trials at first-evidence of antique furniture in brighter colors from the days of British colonization were spread all over the place. But most of those colors had faded, and instead been set as furniture to accompany the dull, serious colors of stone courtroom furniture. Lucas was momentarily captured by the lamps hanging above, with beautiful pixies providing the dim, small lights.

 

Lucas coughed briefly from the dust before one wave of Dumbledore’s wand left the entire room sparkling. This was the kind of place where the Ministry settled underage school offences that were considered of the adult level. A light punishment would mean a month’s worth of detention; but usually being here already meant suspension or expulsion.

 

At the very front of the room some fifty meters ahead, were Dumbledore and a few of the teachers. Aside from the teachers, he could not recognize the rest. A long haired, blonde man. An attractive older woman. Several other men and women wearing similar robes, who were clearly holding high positions of authority. And Severus Snape.

 

“Lucius,” hissed Snape. “We agreed.”

“And I am keeping our agreement,” said Lucius coolly. “My son has not committed any actual wrongdoing. Other than being a good friend,” he sneered, “which I’m sure he will be punished for in his own time.”

 

Draco shivered. Lucas frowned. That wasn’t particularly supportive.

 

“This hearing will come to order,” said Dumbledore sternly, swinging down the magical gavel.

 

Lucas grinned-after feeling awkward being the only one in the courtroom without a parent, Aberforth strolled in with overly big robes and a big waterbag of wine. The grin quickly died when his mentor walked over, punched him very painfully in the face and promptly sat down next to him.

 

“Is this how you thought it would turn out?” he muttered, somewhat between anger and amusement.

“Ow.”

  
“That’s fine, you don’t need your jaw to talk.” He folded his arms and leaned comfortably back on the chair. “Kid, I have at least 200 regulars around this time. You owe me a thousand sickles.”

 

“That’s ridiculous. The pub can’t even fit eighty.”

 

“Shh, it’s starting.”

 

“All rise.”

 

Everyone in the room took a stand, and Cornelius Fudge; Minister of Magic entered the room.

 

It then struck Lucas that they were in serious trouble. This wasn’t a mock trial settled by the school internally; Snape had intended to prosecute the three boys to the point of even prison time, and Dumbledore was letting him go with it.

 

_Damn._

Hatred ran through Lucas’ veins at that moment. It wasn’t just Snape or Dumbledore-but the Ministry of Magic himself was here. The big man himself. He might never have another chance like this…

 

And then he noticed Aberforth next to him, his eyes keenly focused on him.

 

_Contact!_

When Aberforth had first refused to train Lucas to become a highly proficient duelist, his interest was piqued by how his Legilimens had been unable to penetrate the boys mind. Perhaps it was his heritage, but it had taken days before being able to get an idea of whom this homeless thief had been. Years later, Lucas had become more private as a young man; but one of the conditions for being taken under his wing was that Aberforth could attempt his Legilimens at any time.

 

In seconds, but what seemed like whole minutes, Lucas had pushed Aberforth out of his mind.

 

“Careful,” said Aberforth seriously, when both had shaken out of it. “You were very vulnerable. I felt your anger.”

 

“Anyone would have seen it,” argued Lucas.

 

“But not everyone would figure out why. I wasn’t the only one trying to read your mind.”

 

Lucas turned at the direction Aberforth had gestured. In that place sat one thin-nosed, greasy haired professor.

 

Why was _Snape_ trying to read his mind?

 

Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat as he sat at the podium, and began to read off the parchment.

 

“Ministry of Magic, Department of Dangerous Spells and Artifacts. Case 28917, 17.1 of Section 12A for inappropriate use of magic.  The People vs. Zabini, Malfoy, Dumbledore…”

 

Draco and Blaise glanced astonishingly at Lucas. He shook his head hurriedly. It wasn’t like that.

 

“Let the record show that the defendants are minors.  Against this charge, how do you plead?”

 

“Not guilty,” sad Lucius confidently. The blonde father turned to the woman at the typewriter with a dashing smile that made her blush. “Let the record note that pending this suit we intend to countersue one Severus Snape, and his filthy mud-“

 

Malfoy had Lucius back into the seat before Snape could jump over the other side of the table.

 

Blaise’s mother pleaded not guilty as well. It was hard for any man in that courtroom not to keep looking at her for at least another second after she had sat down. She was an astonishingly attractive woman; age was barely catching up with her. At worst, she looked like she was in her late-thirties. Of course, she was far older than that.

 

Aberforth looked at Lucas.

 

“Should I be pleading guilty?”

 

“Aberforth,” groaned Lucas. “You’re supposed to be _defending_ me.”

 

“But you really did do it.”

 

“Not directly. Is that really the point?”

  
After he declared his legal position, the trial begun.

 

~

 

Elsewhere, a Marauders Map had been opened. Harry Potter was seething now, after listening to a lengthy explanation about the exact effects of Loki’s Daybreak.

 

“They’re here,” said Harry, his voice laced in steel. “They’re in Dumbledore’s office.”

 

Hermione gasped. “It’s a trial.”

 

Yanking Ron away from his parchment, the three made their way down to the office.

 

~

 

The trial continued surprisingly smoothly, even more than expected. Without any real proof, or direct involvement, not to mention quite a valid defense (it was after all, considered one of the most dangerous tournaments in history), there was no reason for anything to happen to them. One by one, all the witnesses and the accused cleared the stands, the frustration of Severus Snape increasingly growing.

 

But then the prosecutor called Lucas to the stand.

 

The first few questions were easy. The silver-eyed boy nervously corroborated what his friends had said, while taking a gentler approach as to how Joan had made her request. It would not be good for her if he made her out to be an ambitious youngster practicing dark magic. Too much similarity to the Dark Lord, at a young age.

 

Maybe by this point, Lucas had gotten complacent, because he never saw the next question.

 

“Lucas,” said the prosecutor, “we understand that Miss Snape made her request exceptionally to you.”

 

“Well…”

 

“Objection,” said Aberforth loudly.

 

“Sustained,” said Fudge. “You will not badger the defendant, Rookwood.”

 

“Yes, your Honour. We meant to pose it as a question…”

 

“It’s true,” said Lucas, not wanting to stir up trouble. “I have a fair amount of knowledge about the spell.”

 

From a distance, Aberforth slapped his forehead. This honesty was a mistake.

 

“Fair amount,” said the prosecutor aloud. His professionalism almost held it in, but the smile of triumph briefly flashing across his face was unmistakable. “And how did you acquire this information?”

 

“Uh…” What was he supposed to say? That he had been training since he was a child in destructive dark magic?

 

“The court recognizes the evidence presented by the plaintiff,” said Fudge, taking notes handed to him by the prosecutor. “The information is only contained within this list of particular forbidden books.”

 

“That’s negligible,” said Aberforth coolly. “There is no reason he could not have attained it visiting someone else’s place, or shared to him by someone else…”

 

“Can you read this?” said the prosecutor, a leering smile on his face. A book plopped against his stand; something he was clearly unable to read. Lucas’s clutched his fist. This was not going to end well for him.

 

“OBJECTION,” said Aberforth angrily.

 

Lucas reached for a book hesitantly.

“I…I can’t…” he stammered.

 

But the prosecutor was relentless.

  
“It’s a simple question, Lucas. Read it! If you can’t read it, then how did you acquire the information?!”

 

“OBJECTION!” yelled Aberforth, his fist banging against his table. But the damage had already been done; the pressure and somewhat humiliation was already getting to his protégée. His eyes had turned vacant; he would soon not be accountable for his actions…

 

“Enough.”

 

A clear, authoritative voice spoke up.

 

“Ms Bones?”

 

“I daresay this trial has no reason to go on any further. There has been no physical evidence, at _best._ All in favor of clearing charges?”

 

The majority of teachers raised their hands, and Fudge smiled.

  
“Very well, very well…cleared of all charges. Dismissed.”

 

The prosecutor shot Lucas a snide look, before retaking his seat. Lucas ignored him, shook out of it and stepped down to meet Aberforth and the other accused.

 

“So what does that mean, exactly?” asked Lucas, not understanding what ‘cleared’ meant in court. “Expulsion? Suspension?”

 

“Absolutely nothing,” smirked Lucius. He turned to Severus, gloat written all over his face.  “In the meantime, we will be gracious enough to give your ‘daughter’ some time to recover before bringing both of you under charges. Or would you like to assume responsibility yourself, Severus?” With a cocky smirk, he took his son and strode out of the room.

 

Huh. Malfoys.

 

Lucas glanced apprehensively at the front, where Snape stood. So furious that he was actually trembling-he certainly understood how that felt like. And who could blame him? No father would ever want to believe that his daughter had pushed herself; not to mention others, into something so forbidden.

 

Not like he had helped any. He sighed. He should have known what he was doing, even if he trusted her.

 

“So,” said Lucas. “What happens from this point?”

 

Aberforth shrugged, packing up his things.

 

“Well the participants of the tournament have to continue, since they are still alive.”

 

“Still ali…seriously? That’s the stupidest magical contract I’ve ever heard of,” growled Lucas.

 

“Well,” said Aberforth, shaking his head with a small grin. “It _is_ an _ancient_ contract.”

 

He patted his protégée on the back and ushered him out of the room. Before he left, however, marks of worry creased across his face. He turned back momentarily, to look at the lamps. Sure enough, the fairies were dead.

 

_Electrocuted._

 

~

 

Being cornered by the Golden Trio after court was really the last thing that Lucas wanted right now. But there was no escaping the hot-tempered Harry Potter.

 

“I want to know exactly what happened,” demanded Harry furiously. “And I’m not talking about what Dumbledore said, or his punishment. You three could be expelled for all I care, really.”

 

“Brilliant, Potter,” spat Blaise back angrily. “Be rude to the ones you want something from. That’s going to work well for you.”

 

Lucas blinked. It was painful. He was already seeing red. His senses were going on overdrive. They were talking too loudly, too furiously. He felt his body trembling, at the verge of going out of control…

 

“We’re quite serious,” said Hermione, folding her arms. “You boys could have killed her! What were you thinking?!”

 

A sigh of exasperation escaped Lucas’ lips as he put his hand to his forehead, clearly trying to compose himself. “Hermione,” he said slowly, controlling a shiver. “It was _her_ idea…”

 

And at the same time, Draco predictably yelled, “Stuff it, Mudblood!”

 

“Not helping, Malfoy.” His head was starting to throb. “Can we please talk about this later?”

  
“Take it back!” yelled Ron, lunging at Malfoy.

 

Unfortunately, Lucas was standing right next to Malfoy. Any good self-defense training will teach you to defend an area around your entire body. And Malfoy happened to be part of that area. Every pent up frustration from the past few days just welled up in that one defensive movement.

 

And he almost broke Ron’s arm.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you!” bellowed Ron, yanking his arm away. It had almost been twisted out of position.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lucas gasped, looking very much as horrified and shocked as they were. For a moment he caught a glimpse of Hermione’s face; she was still shocked and worried about Ron.

 

“Damn.”

 

With nothing else he could really do or say, he dashed down the corridor, not wanting to experience another moment of shame and regret around the brown-haired girl that he was beginning to feel very, very much like his feelings were depending on.

 

~

 

Joan woke up. At least, it felt like she had woken up. Her eyes were blurry, her hair was messy and she was very much in pajamas. All this she could tell, because she was looking at herself in the mirror.

 

_Huh?_

 

The confusion was not unwarranted. Joan was looking at herself check _herself_ out in the mirror. She was certainly not moving, but her eyes were trailing dangerously alongside her slender waist as she looked at herself approvingly. She was pretty attractive. For a mortal, at any rate.

 

“What the f-“

 

But the movement in her lips was abruptly cut short. Her reflection in the mirror frowned, before grinning and shaking her head. _Get used to it,_ her body taunted. She flashed herself a casual little wink in the mirror so she could see it, before she moved to change out of the hospital clothes.

 

At once she knew what was going on. Loki, the God of Mischief, was still very much inside her body. He was still in her head. And he was not welcome. She kicked and screamed and raged, but it was all inside her head as Loki placed on a nightgown. Clearly, he did not know anything about appropriate daytime dressing. Also, he was disturbingly happy being a girl.

 

 _Hey!_ She yelled in her head, essentially at herself. Other than projecting herself through her eyes, she found that she could push herself at the back of her mind, where her thoughts were. She could see everything that she had on her mind lately; not literally seeing but in some sense, being completely aware. It was here, she knew, that she would be able to communicate with the other entity inside her head.

 

For a moment, she felt a movement; and she shivered. What was that?

 

But it was gone as soon as it came. Moments later, a small projection of Loki filled her mind.

 

The image of Loki now was in a far better state than when she had first met him. He had cleaned himself up rather nicely, dressed in comfortable brown robes of old that cascaded down past his ankles. A small, almost cute-no _, mischievous_ smirk ran across his cheeks. Joan couldn’t help but notice that he was in fact, rather attractive.

 

She promptly smacked him in the face so that he would be less so.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BODY,” she screamed. “NOOOOO.”

“Young master,” he grinned, “I warned you this might happen.”

  
“Right,” muttered Joan furiously, kicking him in the balls. He reacted painfully, much to her delight.

 

“Fortunately,” he whispered, as many images of him began to appear around her, with more of his ever so cute-annoying smirks. “This is only a projection of me. The same can’t be said for you, however…”

 

Something seemed to push her…in her mind-and it felt like she had been slammed into a wall, with all the pain that comes from being slammed into a wall. But her exterior was still lounging on a bed in her nightgown, lying comfortably down.

 

“Foolish girl. So strong, and yet so soft…delicate…”

Much to her horror, Joan could feel her own finger trace down her thigh.

 

“Now you understand,” said Loki. “Men will never control Gods.” He stretched himself in her mind, much to his annoyance-showing off his spectacular, rejuvenated body with toned muscles.

 

“M’lady. Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

 


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 10**

Pansy Parkinson had risen early this morning and had went ahead to wash up in the showers, face grim and mood foul. Last night was a complete and utter disaster for her, no thanks to that slut of a Snape who not only stole the limelight during the ball, but the attention of her date and fiancé as well. Her eyes were puffy and dry from last night’s crying session in the company of her fellow dorm mates (not including that wretched Snape) and she forced the new wave of tears back. Her Draco was worth every last drop she wept, but _not_ that slut!

 

She was appalled that such a wrench could be related to the great Severus Snape, beloved house head and respected potions master. But it was expected; Muggle borns _always_ gave others a bad name.

 

As she walked down the corridors to return to her room, she heard a piercing scream coming from the direction of her room. Quickening her pace, Pansy sprinted down the narrow hallways turned the doorknob and flung the door wide open in panic. Worried for her dormmates, Pansy was about to scream bloody murder at whoever dared assult her friends, when her eyes landed on the lithe form of a panicky Joan Snape who was desperate trying to cover her naked form with her blanket.

 

Around her, Daphne and the Carrow twins were laughing and teasing her tremendously, pointing at a bruise, which looked suspiciously like a hickey on her neck, and tugging at her blanket, daring her to _share_ last night’s experience. Pansy **did not** need to know what Snape did last night. The morning’s results were self-explanatory enough.

 

“So it’s true what the others are saying,” Daphne taunted when she managed to take a quick peek beneath the blanket.

 

“You really _are_ a slut! Potter and Malfoy not good enough for you? Who knew you were into pedophiles?”

 

“Joan’s a slut, Joan’s a slut ~” the Carrow twins sang, giggling evilly.

 

“Stop it! _Please!_ ” Joan sobbed, her red eyes turning to Pansy’s, begging.

 

“Pansy! You saw me last night! You were in the room when I came in alone, changed into my nightgown and slept! I’m telling the truth, aren’t I? _Nothing_ happened last night!”

 

An evil grin made its way up Pansy’s lips as the gears in her head turned. Thank Salazar for bestowing upon her the opportune moment to exact her revenge. This was going to be sweet.

 

“Oh, I saw what happened last night alright,” Pansy feigned disappointment as she folded her arms. “And all I can say is, I’m disappointed at the liar you are.”

 

Joan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

 

Pansy shook her head. “I agreed to keep things a secret last night, but even now as the whole school found out, I’m appalled at the fact that you still try to weasel your way out if this.” She sighed and turned around. “Snape, just face up to what you did. Stop running.”

Daphne and the Carrow twins couldn’t agree more and the four of them left for breakfast, leaving the miserable girl alone to deal with the horror of a widespread rumor gone wrong. Wrapping the blanket tightly around her, Joan buried her head in her knees and continued to cry. Never in her whole life had she felt so embarrassed, confused, angry and betrayed.

 

She woke up without any soreness or bruises and marks on her body, except for the the glaring purple hickey on her neck, which she never remembered receiving, confirming that no one had their way with her last night. But who would do this to her?

 

Joan’s mind flittered through the possibilities. The only one who could stage this was someone in this very room. Could it be Pansy? Joan dropped the idea altogether. Pansy could be persistent and hold a grudge, but there was no way she was this creative or capable of spreading a rumor so quickly.

 

“It appears someone had fun last night…”

 

Joan sniffed and looked up to face the trickster god who stood at the door, a playful smirk on his features. Joan’s eyes lit up slightly, never having thought she’d be so glad to see Loki. Perhaps he would know the cause of this misunderstanding.

 

“Not likely,” Joan replied, but the unsettling smirk on the trickster’s face silenced her from speaking any further. She didn’t like that look.

 

“I was not referring to you, child. I was referring to myself.”

 

“What?”

 

Joan was at her feet now, the blanket doing a terrible job hiding her body but she didn’t care. Loki had seen her naked before (unfortunately) will be seeing her more in time ot come unless she could find a way to break the bond. Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, the smirk never leaving his face.

 

“I kept my word when I said I would not cause mischief to others. However, I did not say anything about my own master.” He threw his head back in laughter.

 

“You mortals are so easily sated! All it takes is one simple rumor and before you know it, it explodes into various tales of preposterous exaggeration! Half of them are not bad if I do say so myself.”

 

“Wh-Why would you do this?”

 

With a wave of his hand, Loki caused the hickey on Joan’s neck to vanish.

 

“That was just a bit of fun, really.” He stroked her cheek.

 

“But I dare say, if you had not any history with your blonde classmate and that infernal boy with glasses, this prank would not have turned out so well. No surprise with you ending up without company by the end of today, well, except for that pathetic fanclub of yours. That is, if they are not jacking off to your pic-“

 

Loki felt his breath leave him quite forcefully when he found himself shoved roughly onto Joan’s bed, his head colliding painfully against the headboard. He groaned and looked up to the furious eyes of the young witch.

 

“ _I TRUSTED YOU!!”_ she screamed with so much hurt, so much fury, that it brought on a new wave of tears.

 

“I gave you a chance, Loki! I _actually_ thought there was some good in you! That you aren’t that evil guy everyone makes you up to be! That your silver tongue had other uses than to bring forth chaos and misery! That you actually _cared_ about me! Well, never again!”

 

Gathering up her robes and changing quickly, Joan stormed across the room and threw open the door. She looked over her shoulder to deliver the iciest glare that she could muster, her words equally biting.

 

“ _I_ am your master. _You_ are my servant. Know your place!”

 

Loki on her bed disappeared and she felt him retreat to her mind, the god extremely silent and actually apprehensive this time. She forced him to the farthest and darkest part of her mind and made her way to her first class of the day, not feeling particularly hungry.

 

The happiness she felt from last night vanished and with every step she took, Joan felt her heart breaking.

 

~

 

Harry Potter was livid.

 

Waking up this morning realising he only had one more day to prepare for the second round (which he has yet to figure out), was bad enough, but waking up to a widespread rumor on _his girl_ bedding an attractive older man and being a slut, was _not welcome._

 

His anger was felt _everywhere_ and _anywhere_ he went, so much so that even his two best friends and their significant others had enough sense to not bother him today. Oh, he knew who that mysterious man was, it wasn’t that hard to figure out, but everyone else didn’t and the god had obviously taken advantage of that fact, striking when he hadn’t been around.

 

At first, Harry had lost his temper when he found out Joan and Loki were causing a ‘scene’ at the dancefloor last night, without his knowledge. It was embarrassing to walk into breakfast and have the whole school giving him pitying looks that his girl had cheated on him and all that rubbish.

 

Despite the whole school speculating they had feelings for each other, Joan had danced with another man, kissed him in front of not just Hogwarts but Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well, and became known as the girl who played with his and Malfoy’s hearts. How Malfoy of all people got dragged into the picture was beyond Harry, but the fact that the blonde had avoided, ignored, and insulted Joan during potions this morning, proved their relationship had gone sour. He had received a harsh detention from Snape obviously, but by the sneer and disgust on his face, he didn’t seem too bothered by it, glad to put as much distance between himself and Snape’s daughter as much as possible.

 

But, after thinking things over, Harry knew this was entirely uncharacteristic of the kind Slytherin and after putting two and two together, it was obvious who deserved his anger: Loki.

 

Before the god arrived, things were going so smoothly, but now, Harry found himself competing against that bastard for Joan’s attention, with a _reason._ They had yet to solve the riddle of the golden egg and time was running out. And now with the damage Loki caused, it was making things harder between the two of them. On top of that, Hermione and Lucas were a couple now. Talk about peer pressure.

 

‘Brilliant, Loki. _Brilliant,’_ Harry thought sarcastically as he rounded the corner, only to bump into Cedric Diggory.

 

Cedric quickly helped the boy to his feet, but upon realising it was Harry, he immediately stiffened, posture awkward.

 

“Erm, hey,” he greeted, not knowing what else to say. He opted for words of comfort, what with the gossip spreading around the castle like wildfire, but by the angry aura coming off Harry in waves, Cedric decided against it.

 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered as he dusted himself off. “Too much on my mind.”

 

“Yeah, can tell.”

 

An awkward silence.

 

“Hey, Harry, listen,” Cedric took the younger boy by the arm and dragged him to a secluded corner. “Thanks for tipping me off about the dragons.”

 

“No problem. The whole thing was rigged to begin with. You had the right to know.”

 

Cedric smiled gratefully and ruffled Harry’s hair much to said boy’s annoyance. This was why he couldn’t hate the Hufflepuff even if he technically stole the girl of his dreams (past dreams, he reminded himself) – Cedric was too damn nice.

 

“If you haven’t solved the riddle yet, try the prefect’s bathroom. You’d be surprised how much the quiet and peace can help.” He nudged a confused Harry, before jogging off to catch up with his friends.

 

Harry stood there, perplexed, his mind going over Cedric’s advice. It was obvious the boy was giving him a tip-off but what was supposed to do, exactly? Too absorbed in his thoughts, a newspaper was promptly smacked in his face, follow by a gruff “explain”. Harry removed the paper to glare at Zabini who merely folded his arms and waited for an explanation.

 

It was the Daily Prophet and on the cover was the large headline: Tri-Wizard Temptress – Third time’s the charm! This was followed by a large photograph of Joan and Loki dancing with the god kissing her senseless, accompanied by two supporting smaller photographs of Harry and Draco. Harry saw red immediately, having thought this paper stopped haunting him since morning and tore it in half.

 

Damn that Rita Skeeter!

 

“What’s there to ask? A picture speaks a thousand words, and there are **three** , and they all **move!** ” Harry shouted, uncaring of the strange stares people were giving him. Zabini held up his hands in defense.

 

“Hey, I just wanted to know why my best friend is blatantly ignoring and treating my other best friend like dirt, that’s all.” Harry rubbed his temples tiredly and jabbed at the image of the trickster god on the front cover.

 

“If you want someone to blame, blame him. He’s the reason why the three us have such a crappy reputation now.”

 

The dark Slytherin figured as much. Talk about waking up to a whole new world. He just missed one dance – _one dance_ , and he woke up the next morning, literally, disoriented and he almost convinced himself he landed in an alternate dimension - almost. Pansy fucking Parkinson was still clinging desperately to Draco, so Blaise was pretty sure he was still in the same world before he went to sleep.

 

“Alright, I’ll talk to him,” Blaise placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder before the boy could stalk off. There was a hidden worry in his stoic eyes. “But can you promise to watch out for Joan?”

 

“That goes without saying.”

 

“Oh, Potter!”

 

Harry paused in his steps.

 

“What?”

 

“So Lucas and your Mudblood friend finally got together, huh?”

 

He laughed jovially as he dodged a jinx aimed his way. Yup, things definitely didn’t change. He still enjoyed pissing Potter off and no god of mischief was going to change that.

 

~

 

Hermione wrapped a protective hand around her friend’s trembling form and ran into a nearby classroom. Behind her, she could her the frantic cries and catcalls of Slytherin boys, followed by flashes of cameras. She turned crazed eyes to Lucas.

 

“Shut the door! Do it!”

 

Aiming his wand at the doors and all windows in the room, Lucas cast a strong lock charm on all of them, even going so far as to darkening the windows incase any desperate journalist or reporter or even student, tried their luck looking in on them. The pounding began and a silencing charm was enough to grant them some peace and quiet. Once that was done, Lucas turned away promptly to give the two girls some privacy.

 

Hermione had removed her outer robe to place it around Joan, whose towel was barely enough to keep her adequately covered and warm. The girl’s hair was still damp from her shower, at least, before she got rudely interrupted. The Slytherin girls probably planned the whole thing, waiting for Joan to be alone in the showers before deciding to invite every single interested male housemate _in_. Hermione was just thankful that she and Lucas happened to be passing by the dungeons when Joan had practically rolled and skidded out of the Slytherin common room.

 

“Okay, you can turn around now.”

 

No sooner had Lucas done that, he rushed over to his friend, stopped before her awkwardly and gave her a slight nudge.

 

“Hey, did anyone hurt you?”

 

Joan shook her head. Lucas nodded in relief and took out a familiar black book.

 

“Alright. You ready?”

 

“Wait!” Joan’s hand shot out to grab at the open spell book before he could read out the runes. She paused for a few seconds, then shook her head. Lucas saw red and nearly threw the book at her.

 

“ _HE DID THIS TO YOU AND YOU STILL CARE ABOUT HIM?!”_

“Lucas, stop!” Hermione launched herself at her boyfriend before his temper got the better of him. Lucas stumbled and nearly dropped the book, mumbling a quick apology that was easily forgiven.

 

Joan sighed and composed herself.

 

“I gave him a piece of my mind this morning and he’s be quiet since. Disturbingly quiet. Oh, he’s still in there – she pointed to her head – but he’s been good. Apparently there’s a part of my mind he doesn’t like and locking him in there is a punishment in itself.”

 

Hermione cocked her head to the side curiosly.

 

“Is he still locked up in there? What part of your mind exactly?”

 

A pause; a solemn voice.

 

“The part where my recent and constant nightmare resides.” Joan rose to pace before the couple in all seriousness.

 

“Loki has mumbled to himself time and time again that he hated sharing his space with anyone, and when he first took over my body, I felt a dark presence in my head and I’m _very_ sure it’s not him.”

 

Lucas frowned. “For how long?”

 

“Who knows? All I know is, Loki knows something we don’t and he’s not going to tell me unless I gain his trust. And let’s face it, reading runes every day and putting him through pain is _not_ going to help me find out the truth.”

 

“Can’t he hear us?” Hermione asked, actually starting to feel scared. She needed to inform Ron and Harry as soon as possible.

 

Joan shook her head.

 

“No, he’s locked up in there, remember? It blocks everything.”

 

“And how do you plan to gain his trust?” Lucas asked suspiciously, nearly forgetting that his friend could be quite the sly one from previous experiences.

 

“With time,” Joan answered simply.

 

“Oh, and guys, don’t tell anyone about this, not even Ron or Harry. The lesser people who know, the better. I don't want Loki invading other people’s privacy or stalking them to find out.” She picked up the spell book and snapped it shut, a determined look in her red eyes.

 

‘Two can play this game, god of lies.’

 

~

 

Harry stripped himself off his robes and slowly sank into the large pool of the prefects’s bathroom. The vast bathing area was filled to the brim with water and and foam, with bubbles floating into the air every now and then from the soapy concoction. He sighed in content.

 

Oh yeah, this was the life!

 

On the pool’s edge sat the large golden egg and Harry told himself that he’d get to it later. Right now, it was just him, this warm and luxurious bath, and-

 

“Harry?”

 

The boy who lived scrambled to sit upright, causing quite a disturbnce in the once calm and soothing water. He quickly reached for his glasses and as soon as he put them on, swore that he would’ve passed out from the provocative sight before him. Joan was talking to him that was for sure, but she was stripping too and that alone was enough to overpower her words.

 

“- quite the private place, this is. How’d you manage to find it?”

 

Harry was pretty sure he was donning a stupid grin now and he hadn’t a clue if his speech made sense, but there was an attractive girl in an attractive bikini in the water and swimming towards him at this very moment. That was all Harry’s mind could process and that was good enough.

 

“Er… Harry? Yoohoo!! Hey, boy!”

 

“Huh? What?”

 

Joan was right up at his face now and on instinct, Harry shoved himself backwards to press his back against the side of the pool. A blush stained his cheeks and Joan laughed.

 

“Sorry, too close?”

 

“Not close enough” was what Harry wanted to say, but since his mind was back to logical thinking, he remained silent to save him the embarrassment. Remembering Joan’s earlier question, he quickly replied, “Oh, I… have my ways.”

 

“Keeping secrets now, are you?” Joan teased and although that comment was meant to be playful, Harry’s sudden and bitter reply pierced through Joan’s heart.

 

“Well, it’s not like _somebody_ ’s sharing with the world her love life…”

 

“What?”

 

“So, how many guys did you sleep with? Or was _he_ your first?”

 

“I can’t believe you! You actually believe what they’re saying?!”

 

“Oh, I believe what I saw in the papers when you where dancing with him as soon as I left!”

 

The two of them were screaming now and the mermaid on the stain glass window hid her face behind her hair in fright.

 

“What was I supposed to say?! No?!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Why are you being so selfish?!”

 

“Because I like you, ok?!”

 

Both of them fell silent as soon as those words left Harry’s mouth, the boy willing himself to look anywhere but at her and Joan staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly hanging open mouth. It took a while for the boy’s unwitting confession to sink in, but as soon as it did, Joan swam up to him, effectively trapping him against the pool wall.

 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

Harry sighed in resignation before reaching out to cup Joan’s face gently. His emerald eyes held so much love, so much hope and a tinge of regret, that Joan felt her anger melt away in favour of listening to what the boy had to say.

 

“I like you, Joan. I like you a lot. And… I’m jealous, jealous about his relationship and _legal_ bond with you.” He tucked her hair behind her ear fondly.

 

“Before he came along, it was always the two of us – _just_ the two of us. Well, and Ron and Hermione of course, but then Lavender and Lucas happened and… yeah you know the rest.”

 

Joan giggled and to Harry, that was the loveliest sound he heard all day. With a sudden flurry of courage, Harry placed his hands on the girl’s bare shoulders and leaned in close, their breaths mingling.

 

“But Harry,” Joan interrupted, a little bit frightened of how forward the boy was being. “Loki told me that during round one, he had tried to posses me and kill you, but he couldn’t. There was something _else_ inside me and-“

“Joan,” Harry breathed patiently. “Loki’s a _trickster_ god and he could be lying, you know…”

 

“Yes, but-“

 

However, whatever Joan wanted to say was quite literally swallowed by Harry who leaned in to capture her lips in a deep, seering kiss, loving yet possessive all the same. His hands trailed languidly down her arms, one of them resting on the back of her waist to push her closer to him, while the other one played with the strings of her bikini top.

 

Joan moaned into the kiss and pulled away to tilt her head back, holding onto Harry’s shoulders as the boy trailed hot kisses down the length of her throat. Nipping and sucking at some parts, she couln’t help the small pleasure-filled gasps and whines that escaped her lips. The bathroom was getting hot and her vision bagan to swim. All she could think about was Harry, Harry and oh!

 

His lips found hers again and this time, she returned the kiss in equal fevour. However, before he could pull and undo the knot of her top, the room started to vibrate and rumble, the source of the disturbance being the large and towering structure of the pool taps. Pipes and some taps began to burst and steam clouded the room in thick white screens, making breathing difficult.

 

The rumbling was so great, that the golden egg that was perched on the edge of the pool, fell into the water. Quickly, Harry and Joan made a dive for it, but as soon as they touched its gleaming surface, the egg opened and instead of the shrill screeching Harry had been so accustomed to hearing, came a voice so melodious and beautiful, it left them mesmerized.

 

_Come seek us where our voices sound_

_We cannot sing above the ground_

_An hour long you’ll have to look_

_To recover what we took_

_An hour long you have to look_

_To recover what we took_

_Your time’s half gone so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot._

 

Grabbing the egg, Harry emerged from the waters surface and gulped as much oxygen as he could, greedily. Joan emerged as well and while pondering the riddle and watching Harry whip out his wand to desperately fix the mess, she noticed a figure standing not too far off from the side, who was probably the cause of the destruction.

 

There, at the edge of the pool, stood none other than Loki himself, a conflicted expression on his face. Their eyes met for the briefest of moment, before the trickster god took his leave, disappearing in the shadows. And as Joan remained in the waters, she couldn’t shake off the hurt in the older male’s eyes.

 

~

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 15

**Long Chapter this time round. Hope you like it! Read and review please!**

 

**Chapter 11**

"So…what happened after?" asked Lucas.

"What?"

"I said, 'WHAT HAPPENED AFTER?'"

"I CANT HEAR YOU!" roared Harry loudly. He could barely see him either, from his vantage point up in the air.

Early in the morning, while waiting for Hermione to wake up (he had to carry her up from the library, she was so tired); Lucas had offered to teach Harry some combat magic for the tasks ahead. Harry was more than happy to accept his help, but on the condition that he used his broom in the duel. This helped him kill two birds with one stone; training magic and flight. So whilst Lucas was grounded on the Quidditch Pitch, Harry had the high ground and the element of surprise.

Harry whizzed past Lucas again, so fast that the latter's wand movement almost failed to deflect the Disarming Charm. The taller Hufflepuff was yelling something at him, but he wasn't quite sure what. Still, just a moment ago Lucas had lured him to the ground level with something similar, and he wasn't falling for that again…oblivious that poor Lucas was only trying to make conversation.

A small crowd had begun to gather as Harry circled around the pitch, darting in and out of Lucas' line of sight. He clutched his wand determinedly as the wind gathered around his broom. The rush of the air felt as if it were alive, dancing around his acceleration in the sky. He pushed through a cloud, letting the droplets wash over him and laughed.

What a rush!

_Round 2, Lucas._

Pushing the Firebolt into maximum acceleration, Harry burst out of the clouds as several minor spells whipped past him. Lucas was casting a series of rapid-fire stunning spells now, but the speed and high altitude was more than enough cover for him to just continue in his dive. The unusually thick fog this morning somewhat helped as well.

"Rictusempra!"

He briefly caught the grin on Lucas' face before his opponent deftly batted his spell out of the way…and barely dodged the un-ridden broom soaring past his head.

_Gotcha!_

Landing gracefully on the ground some safe distance in front of Lucas, Harry whipped out his wand and cried out his favorite spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

Even though he had cast the Disarming Spell, he hadn't expected to actually catch Lucas' wand in his hand a moment later. Had he really beaten the talented duelist? At this point, the fog had gotten so thick that he couldn't see anything. Maybe the spell had actually hurt Lucas…

"Lucas!" He called out. "Where are you?"

"Thanks."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was only greeted by the sight of his broom whizzing right back at him. He was so shocked that the broom not only knocked all the breath out of him, but also caused him to fly up several feet in the air before crashing painfully onto the ground.

And just like that, the fog cleared. The suns bright rays seemed to mock him, as if saying that he should have seen it coming all along.  _The fog was his spell,_ Harry realized. A trap, and he had literally flown straight into it.

Lucas grinned, holding both his and Harry's wand and pointing at the boy on the ground. Harry would have chuckled back, but his ribs really hurt. The crowd around them begun to applaud, all impressed with the exciting duel. Even if the spells had all been non-lethal.

"That was really difficult," admitted Lucas, reaching for Harry's hand. "You're a natural, Harry."

"T-thanks," wheezed Harry.

"I'm not kidding!" Lucas sounded rather excited now, as he helped his defeated opponent to his feet. "It takes talent to duel like that. You might not have a lot of spells right now, but you've certainly got the creative mind and strategy for it. If you hadn't given away your position…"

"I was concerned," groaned Harry.

"And I appreciate that, but I'm pretty sure that Lord Voldemort is not above cheating either."

This told Harry two things. Firstly, Lucas was certainly not above using schemes to get ahead…something that might have both its pros and cons in the future. But the second, more distinct thing was that he, like Harry, was not afraid of Voldemort's name.

They sat down in the stands, where Lucas examined and casted a minor healing spell on Harry's bruised ribs. It occurred to Harry that this was the first time he was really talking to Lucas alone, one on one. The Hufflepuff hadn't always been the most friendly or outging person, but…this seemed legit.

"So what happened after?"

"Then he said I should consider becoming an Auror."

Harry had briefly recounted everything that had happened the night before…being careful to leave a bikini-laden Joan out of the picture, of course. Joan had been slightly disturbed by Loki's sudden appearance, but once they had focused on the task they were able to figure out what the egg meant.

The problem had arisen while getting back to the dormitories. Joan had reached the bathroom by having Cerberus fly her up to the fifth floor and climbing through a window. However, she had decided all by herself that going back in an invisibility cloak would be much cooler and promptly fought with him for space, leading them to getting caught by Mad-Eye Moody.

Surprisingly, Moody had only teased them and requested to borrow the Marauder's Map, before sending them on their way. That was pretty cool of him…

…But as Harry recounted his events before he spent the whole evening distracted by Joan's soft body cuddling up against his as they traipsed through the grounds, he begun to remember the few initial concerns he had: finding a way to breathe, what Joan's idea of 'transport' during the task was and the most pressing issue of all: the name in the Map he had seen.

Bartemius Crouch. Why had he broken into Snape's cupboard? Snape hadn't been around, but if Harry were to tell on Crouch not only would his story seem ludicrous, but Snape would probably want to know what he was doing out of the dorm at that time, how his daughter ended up with him, etc etc…

"Harry? Hey. Harry? "

Lucas had shaken him awake out of his reverie, he had been thinking far too long already. Silver eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Did something good happen last night?"

'W-what?"

"Never mind," said Lucas contentedly, already having gotten his answer. "An Auror, huh? Interesting."

The two aimlessly stared out at the Quidditch Pitch for a while, appreciating the beauty of Hogwarts during the official start of winter. The field had a spell that converted the snow into bursts of water droplets, so that the grass would grow well for next year's tournament. It was a magical sight to see, as each snowflake rippled in the air, bursting into many water patterns before disappearing.

"What…what do you think?" asked Harry, wanting to break the silence.

"Well…my guardian wants me to be an Auror," said Lucas simply. "He's been training me for it since I was a kid. So I suppose it is a good thing to be an Auror."

What a strange answer, thought Harry. It was really neither here nor there, and it didn't sound like Lucas was remotely enthused…surprising for someone of that kind of dueling capability.

"What do  _you_ think?" asked Lucas; obviously not sure what to say after something like that. Harry shrugged.

"I think that I should make sure not all Aurors are as crazy as Moody."

Lucas thought about it, and then nodded frantically.

They both laughed.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, breakfast that day was not half as crowded as Harry had expected it to be.

From the day of the first task, most of the students now knew what to expect; and exactly whom they were supporting: thus, they spent their morning time making all the necessary preparations. Both the girls and boys were meticulously making gifts, cheering banners and spells for each of the ridiculously attractive and popular Champions of the Triwizard Tournament.

Despite being neither of these, Harry still received a considerable amount more of support than he had before, save a random group of 1st years that had thrown eggs at him during Care of Magical Creatures the day before ('who  _are_ those brats?!' demanded Ron furiously, covered in yolk and shell whilst Harry was completed untouched). Most of the school seemed to finally have gathered around the notion that being a Champion was not all glamour after all, and at the very least, left Harry to his own devices.

In other words, all the events of the past months from Rita Skeeter's articles to the Rift seemed to finally have passed once and for all. Harry couldn't help but grin to himself. Life was good.

As he glanced around the Hall and towards the Slytherin table, his thoughts inadvertently slipped back to the night before, to a particular raven-haired witch in nothing but a teeny, tiny bikini with a blushing face and cute lips…

He turned red at the thought, a silly smile spreading across his face. He was wrong...life was GREAT.

But Joan wasn't around this morning-she was preparing their mode of transport for the Tournament. Probably with the help of that blasted 'God' too. Harry groaned; it was never going to be easy with that horn-head around.

And Ron was at the side of the table, snogging Lavender contentedly. Harry felt an uncomfortable feeling whiz in and out of his stomach. That was something he was never going to get used to. Where were the twins when you needed them?

A ring of cheerful laughter broke Harry out of his train of thought; Lucas and Hermione had arrived. Even with his usual thick clothing, Lucas looked fresher than usual-and it wasn't just from having taken a shower after their little duel. As he gently led Hermione over to her house table, his hand carefully entwined in hers while she giggled, he certainly appeared to be far less imposing than when he had first met him.

"You should see your face," chuckled Lucas, snagging the seat beside him. "It's better than comedies."

Harry imagined his face as he processed the thoughts from minutes ago, and simply nodded, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Got everything?" fussed Hermione, shoving her boyfriend aside. "Gillyweed? Wet suit? Torch?"

"Hermione, I'm fine," protested Harry, right before yawning very loudly. "I just  _really_ need to sleep." He had amazed himself by not falling asleep after taking an extremely cold shower and preparing himself mentally for today. "There's some time after breakfast, so I'm just going to take a quick nap."

"Good," said Hermione. "Is Joan ready as well?"

"Speaking of her…you shouldn't have believed the rumors," said Lucas frankly. "That was really naïve of you, Harry."

Harry blinked, mostly in annoyance. First Lucas' colorful choice of language had been rubbing off on Hermione, and now her know-it-all tone had encroached into the mind of her boyfriend. Go figure couples.

"I know that," he muttered. "She's fine. We've both got the Gillyweed." Just repeating that gave him far more assurance than he had in the 1st task. "We'll be just fine."

Suddenly, a small commotion rose up from the entrance of the Great Hall. Curiously, the three of them turned to look, only to be blocked by the huge crowd surrounding the reason. Flash bulbs went off in waves as the cameras desperately tried to capture the subject in his glory.

It was Krum. Lucas groaned as Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The toned, handsome body of the Durmstrang Champion and International Quidditch player was clad in nothing but briefs-walking proudly and firmly into the air-conditioned Great Hall thoroughly soaked. It did not take a genius to figure out what he had been doing.

"He took a shower and forgot to change?" asked Ron, still dazed from his make-out session with Lavender. His three friends simultaneously face palmed, especially Hermione.

"Ron, you dolt, he swam in the Lake!" Hermione half explained/gushed. "He said that he was used to the Bulgarian cold, but wow-uh…"

Steam was practically bursting out of Lucas' ears, and his facial expression looked rather constipated. If there had been an appropriate moment, Hermione would have hit herself silly. But first, she had to watch her mouth.

…Then she had to make sure that her boyfriend didn't start stripping to make a comparison.

To make things worse, Krum walked right up to Hermione, in all his half-naked glory. Harry squirmed in the presence of his fellow champion, as with half of his table. The other half was too busy ogling the Bulgarian Seeker.

"Herm-own-ninny," he said, politely and gentlemanly. "May I haf a vord?"

Harry briefly pictured Krum posing as Superman as he said that. It was oddly appropriate.

"That sounds good," said Lucas icily, leaping gracefully out of the bench and facing Krum. The latter only snorted. "Let's talk."

"You are not Herm-own-ninny," said Krum frankly. "She can make her own decisions."

Having his words thrown back at him was a bit of a slap in the face, but Lucas was promptly yanked down to his chair before he could do anything stupid. Hermione got up, looking at both men who clearly liked her, and shot Lucas an exasperated look before letting Krum walk her away nearby.

Ron was about to sympathetically pat Lucas on the back, when the latter shot him a death glare so furious that it sent chills down his spine. He pitifully shrank back, quite happy to go back to the comfort of his girlfriend.

In a few moments, Hermione walked back over as Krum smiled from his spot. She was blushing, and a little flustered as well.

"What did he say?" asked Harry.

"Well, he's not giving up on me," summed up Hermione, getting redder in the face until she felt she had to put her hands on her cheeks to cover it up.

"Oh, I'll give him something to…"

But the hard voice of the Gryffindor Head interrupted Lucas' rant.

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," called Professor McGonagall from the Great Hall entrance. "Would you come with me? I would like to have a few words with…the both of you."

"Don't be so stupid while I'm gone," mumbled Hermione, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek suddenly. He was so shocked that he almost fell over onto the food.

Harry grinned. It was true…life was really great like this. He had certainly not expected things to be that way, but…this worked well too. He yawned as he headed up to the Gryffindor Common Room, thinking about Joan and the task ahead with no doubts in mind.

* * *

 

"I did it," gasped Joan as she jumped into the Common Room, to nobody in particular. "WHOO! I AM AWESOME."

Blaise popped out from behind the curtain, glancing at one of his two best friends. If she was still having him, at any rate.

"Hey."

Her eyes were surprised, ones that had not seen him in a while. Between talking to Malfoy about what had happened and classes; she had not seen him at all. Maybe she had expected him to react like Draco.

But unlike Potter and Draco, Blaise was once more considerably more mature; more aware of this form of behavior, just like when he had caught on to Joan's condition. And now the Asgardian God was permanently thrown into the mix? Interesting.

Her surprised expression quickly broke into a smile of pure, unbridled joy. She jumped up to him and gave him a hug, looking very much like she was resisting screaming. Blaise grinned, hugging her back…

The hug sent him crashing painfully into the sofa. He had forgotten.

Moments ago, Joan had scared off all the girls in the dorm with the random enchantments surrounding her. The spell lashed out randomly at anyone who tried to get anywhere near her, and seemed to work as an anti-jinx spell as well. Blaise suspected it was Loki's doing; while it was good for keeping the Slytherin bullies at bay, no one could really get near her either.

"Cut it out!" she yelled exasperatedly.

Surprisingly, Loki must have complied because the 'aura' died down. You couldn't really see it or feel it for sure, but Blaise just knew it was gone. He winced, and tried to salvage a little pride by grunting.

"Sorry about that."

"Nevermind," muttered Blaise impassively. "How're you feeling? Nervous?"

She laughed. "It hasn't quite sunk in yet."

Blaise plopped beside her on the sofa. "It will be fine," he said reassuringly.

A small smile snuck its way up her face. She was somehow more attractive that way, when she had that small smile. She was laughing loudly half the time he saw her, so maybe it was just not seeing it often.

"Aww, thanks."

They talked for a little more. Joan excitedly laid out the plan for today, the things that had been going on in her life since the ball…and he sat down quietly, listening. Nothing had changed about her. She was fine. And if Draco didn't get that, it was his own problem.

"It's almost time!" she gasped, jumping to her feet so suddenly that he almost fell over the sofa. "I've got to get ready…I'll see you at the lake?"

"Nah, I'm going to catch up on sleep."

"You suck!"

"That's because I trust that you will do just fine," said Blaise, in mock condescension. She pushed his head and waved him off as started heading back up the stairs. That was that, she was just fine…

"Hey, did you want to see me about something?"

"Yeah," said Blaise, not turning back as he walked up the stairs to his dorm. "I was going to talk about Draco."

He could hear the confusion in her voice, and could only smirk a little sadly.

"But…?"

"I decided not to," he said simply, before closing the door.

* * *

 

"O-ok," said Lucas, rubbing his hands together. "I-I c-c-can d-do t-this."

No, he couldn't. No freaking way. He was so cold and he WASN'T EVEN IN THE WATER YET. The air he breathed out seemed to materialize into ice crystals instantly, and his nose was so cold that it had turned a frosty blue. His skin was standing up on end, and the wind was a nightmare that ripped through his body painfully each time it breezed by.

The water in the lake seemed to taunt him, it's icy bits reflecting the images of the somewhat agitated/scared boy in only swimming trunks repeatedly, much like a flickering TV screen.

Even though Hermione had told him to let it go, he just  _couldn't._ He just couldn't take the idea of that smug, pointy-nosed Viktor Krum upstaging him just like that, in front of her. And he knew that she was impressed. Maybe not impressed enough to ask her boyfriend to do the same thing, but…

"C-c-come on," he urged himself loudly, trying to control his shivers. "J-jump! Jump!"

He couldn't help but feel that what he was doing was oddly suicidal. God. Hermione was completely right as usual, he  _was_ stubborn…he could barely imagine the lecture he would get from her when he got back. There was no way that he could get back to the castle unscathed…

"…H-h-hermione?" For a moment, he thought that he was just imagining it, that it was a hallucination brought about from his difficulty to breathe and the extreme cold.

But it was her, floating in mid air. She was wrapped up in a black cloak and her cute face barely sticking out of it. Behind her, a masked figure in a cloak was moving her with his wand, towards where he was at the edge of the lake.

Because it was so incredibly and painfully cold, it took a few moments for the facts to settle in.

He had not seen Hermione since after breakfast, when she was called away by McGonagall. He did not ensure that she had gone back to her dorm.

Hermione was unconscious, possibly bewitched by a spell.

Hermione was a captive of the masked person carrying her by the telekinetic spell. Since said person was masked, it was safe to presume that the person was not a very good person.

The masked person was approaching the lake with Hermione. There are not a lot of reasons you drag someone's unconscious body to a lake.

Lucas whipped out his wand, making a mad dash towards the both of them.

* * *

 

Once again, Harry Potter was a nervous wreck as he dashed down to the lake, Nevile's Gillyweed bouncing safely in his robes with each stride. It was pretty stupid to oversleep, after all the preparations he had made for this task. Hours after this task was over, he would smack himself silly for not using his broom to get down there faster, preventing a sharp pain to the ribs.

"Sorry!" he said hoarsely, his throat dry and his side beginning to hurt tremendously from the exertion. The other champions only shrugged, not really paying much attention to him. Joan waved him over, much to his relief.

"Relax," she said fondly to the boy who looked like he was about to keel over any moment. "The task hasn't started yet."

Harry looked curiously around. He had missed it from catching his breath earlier, but now it was pretty clear that none of the champions were diving into the water anytime soon. Fleur was still fully dressed in thick winter clothes, Joan was wearing her modest Hogwarts Uniform (with pants, to the hormonal teenage boy's frustration) and Cedric had so many robes on that he looked like a broom would not support his weight. Only Krum was completely ready to go-which was completely unsurprising despite the freezing weather. This was the same guy who had jumped into a winter lake in nothing but his swimming trunks, after all.

"But it's been over half an hour since the task was supposed to start," pointed out Harry, and immediately begun to feel guilty about the extent of exactly how late he was. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to him.

"It's a delay in the preparations underwater," said Cedric, trying not to let his teeth chatter as he shivered. "That's what Dumbledore said anyway. I wonder what it could be?"

* * *

 

At that same moment, the cause of this delay was fighting off a fully trained Auror, who was not particularly pleased about this development. She had no interest in injuring any students, but this one had been so aggressive that she was forced to go all out on him.

Yet, he wasn't backing down. A student with the destructive combat power of an Auror…she wondered how Dumbledore monitored this one.

 _This is all a misunderstanding,_ thought Tonks frantically as she cast another defensive spell. She had to end this quickly, before someone got hurt…and she definitely considered herself as a possibility.

She tried shouting out to the kid, but he was too far away. Her voice was lost within moments, traveling against the icy winds.

Something clicked inside of the twenty one year old woman; a little misguided anger, maybe. It wasn't just because she was one of the youngest Aurors or a woman that others had expected her to fail; but she wasn't even trusted to do simple things right. Any small staff could have done this delivery job, but they had appointed their 'small-time' Auror to do it.

Well, it was about time they learnt she had earned her robes.

A basic tactical trick was to feign defeat; and getting pushed back by the boy's aggressive fighting style was not a problem at all. As predicted, the boy rushed forward to grab the girl, who was on the ground after having been released from the floating charm.

"Hermione," Lucas shook her frantically, but she wouldn't respond. Bewitched. "Come on, Hermione. Wake up!"

Seizing the moment, she fired a destructive spell; he had cast a high level Protego, as anticipated-completely protecting himself. But he had not protected the ground below him. With a yell of astonishment, the boy fell into the icy lakes below, the girl with him.

Tonks could only sigh. Well, she was supposed to go into the lake anyway…

* * *

 

"We've just been assured that everything is back on schedule," said Ludo Bagman, looking quite relieved. "With that, let us commence the second task!"

Harry blinked, barely having caught the end of what Bagman had said. He had been staring out into the distance, thinking about ways he could get out of this tournament. Fifteen minutes in icy chilling wind without the proper robes was already killing him. While it was nice to have Joan snuggling against him, all he could think about was how much worse it would be to dive into that water later.

As if on cue, Krum flexed rosy-red, lithe muscles into the air, preparing for his dive. How on earth was he doing that?! He  _really_  intended on diving in with just the swimming trunks. What a freak of nature.

"And…begin!"

While everyone leapt into the lake with great gusto, Harry took out the Gillyweed and ate it slowly, not particularly game on jumping in. Joan had already dived in, arranging their mode of 'transport' as she had mentioned; he briefly wondered what she had in mind before he felt a sharp pain in his lungs. It wasn't from the stitch.

He couldn't breathe. Each time he took in a breath a sharp, searing pain would strike his lungs, like he was drowning…all his body instincts screamed at him to jump into the water, which he did.

But the moment he landed into the liquid, calmness enveloped him. He actually felt warm, not cold. The air…or liquid he was breathing in was the freshest he had ever had. Fins had actually grown out of his hands and flippers at his feet-he dived and turned, moving faster than he ever had in water.

_Brilliant._

He felt like laughing, and would have if it didn't make water pass through his unblinking eyes even more uncomfortably than they already did. There was just so much to be relieved about. He had been so worried about this task, and somehow a miracle had come about: from Neville, of all people. Hermione was going to be so furious when she learnt just how far she missed it.

Curiously, he glanced at the water passing through his ribs momentarily and promptly blanched, looking away. It was like having two holes in his body he could look through.

Instead, he looked around. The body of water was everywhere, endless, in all directions…he hadn't realized how far he had drifted off when he had tested out his new body. Where was Joan? She had the Gillyweed, she shouldn't have dived in too far away…

The water didn't feel icy any more either...on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and light. Harry struck out once more, marveling at how fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the water.

He had gotten so excited that he swum out too far. From where he stood (or swam), he could not make out the height or depth of the water, nor the direction where he had come in.

Inwardly, he cursed. How could he have let himself get so carried away?

For a few minutes, he followed his gut and begun swimming in the direction of the least fish-this was where he assumed that another swimmer would be, at the very least. In the worst-case scenario, he could always join up with Joan later.

...How long had Neville said the Gillyweed would last? He had only provided enough for a certain amount of time...it was impossible to keep track of how much time had passed in this environment. All the doubt and fear that he thought missing from the first task descended on him suddenly and violently, and he begun to panic.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark and foggy landscape. He could see at most...ten or so feet all around him, the depths seemed endless. He could have made similar progress as a blind bat. Occasionally seeing human-sized shaped shadows flickering ahead would give him a surge of hope, but it would die as soon as it turned out to be a clump of weed or stone structure.

After a certain point he begun to ignore the underlying hopes his imagination played out for him...he was well and completely lost...

* * *

 

Unfortunately for Harry, there was no moment for self-pity as a huge army of Grindylows burst out of the murky waters, charging straight at him. The webbed creatures begun to yank and tug at him, pulling him deeper into the lake. Harry was so shocked by the sudden attack that for a moment he was left petrified, before he began a futile struggle against the dozens of Grindylows. Even though he could not drown, it certainly felt as if he would.

And then they were eclipsed in a bright light, as if at the end of the tunnel...

Harry's eyes widened in horror, the creature was monstrous. It was not unlike a huge puffer fish, but with vicious fangs that extended to metros long and curving past its mouth. It's huge eyes provided the source of light that blinded all of them; the Grindylows dispersed almost immediately. Harry suspected this was what had brought them about in the first place.

"Joan?" he asked incredulously, but only bubbles came out. Joan popped out from behind the large 'Puffer Fish', with a sheepish expression and apologetic wave. She gestured him to hang onto the creatures back gills...it was safe. His grip was steady as the Fish took off...the scales felt like steel.

He looked at Joan, clinging on for dear life as he was with a happy smile on her face. She was stroking the huge fish as if it was a pet, and it responded quite happily too. Even though her eyes were monstrously huge and deformed from the Gillyweed, she still looked incredibly pretty.

She caught him staring, and chuckled. He blushed, looking away. Moments later, Harry felt a sharp pinch at his side and let out a bubble of pain. He tried to pinch her back, but she simply laughed and swum around the Fish out of her reach. This continued for a while, as the fish continued its course.

In contrast to the time he had wasted, the swim felt like it was going incredibly fast. The large fish was clearly an unstoppable creature, cleaving through every obstacle. While Harry would have swum over weed to avoid the dangerous sea creatures lurking there, the fish simply barrel-rolled or ate over anything stupid enough to be in its path. They passed through vast expenses of water in record time, clearing out dozens of sea creatures, gentle and dangerous alike.

Twice he saw Moaning Myrtle pop out from behind rock formations. It looked like she wanted to say something to him but she was rather afraid of his ride. Joan would curiously point at her, not having seen that particular ghost (over the holidays while prepping for the 2nd task, Joan had somehow become close friends with all the ghosts in the castle) whilst Myrtle would look at the considerably more attractive girl, pout, and disappear. Harry suspected she wouldn't have been much help anyway.

Finally, he could briefly make out the same beautiful melody he had heard that day in the bath; the sound enthralling enough to distract him from the girl next to him. The fish swam relentlessly ahead, soon reaching a large rock submerged in the muddy water. Behind the particularly large rock stood a cluster of crude stone dwellings, with algae looming out on all sides. Chained to them were the bewitched captives; Hermione, Ron, Cho, a small silver haired girl who he presumed was Fleur's sister…and scarily enough, an unconscious Snape.

 _We've taken what you will sorely miss…_ it finally made sense. Ron was still his best friend through and through.

And behind those rocks...

"Merpeople," whispered Harry. They greeted Harry with sneers of contempt and arrogance, but their expressions changed in moments as they saw the creature behind him.

"Leviathan!" screeched the Merman hysterically, before fleeing in a swift tail kick and leaving the streams of bubbles in his wake. Harry could only stare incredulously after them as in mere moments; the huge swarm of daunting merpeople had dispersed.

"Leviathan?" mouthed Harry to Joan, pointing at the big happy fish with oversized teeth. She shrugged, looking a bit more worried and apprehensive. It felt as if he had just caught his younger sister stealing from their parents. Harry grimaced; he had certainly not been the only one 'playing to his strengths' as Moody had suggested to him days before the second task, and a giant fish beat out his broom anytime.

But excluding the fact that all of her 'pets' were highly dangerous, the point was that Joan had more than done her part in this task. Harry searched around desperately for something to see the prisoners with; he couldn't perform incantations at all. Joan had just realized this as well, yelling bubbles at the lifeless and bound prisoners. If not for the predicament they were in, Harry would have found it really cute.

After a few agonizing minutes of searching, Harry spotted it; the sharp rocks that surrounded the formation. They had been barely visible before, but now he could see almost everything around him.

It was as if the whole lake had been set alight; he nudged Joan, who was still tugging at the ropes and tossed her a rock. Bright lights begun to fill the reflective surface of the lake, Harry instinctively tried to blink but he couldn't. Where were all those lights coming from?

More bursts of light. Harry glanced around nervously as Joan hacked away at Snape's ropes, something didn't quite feel right. Behind him, the baby Leviathan cooed its approval of the flashes, as if it were appreciating fireworks.

And then Harry saw them at last: the other Champions. But their situation was far from desirable; Cedric was firing spells as he swam, carrying and protecting an unconscious Fleur. Both seemed to have some kind of air bubble around their head, which looked oddly like something Harry had seen from a space book. Krum was backing Cedric up, firing loud and distracting spells as he swam between Cedric and the large army of sea creatures chasing after them.

But he was not firing AT the sea creatures. Harry gulped; or at least, tried to instinctively. They were firing behind something far larger, more monstrous, which was driving all of them here. Another legendary, unstoppable creature.

An unusual flashback struck him at that moment; one of Hermione's lengthy answers in Care of Magical Creatures that had yet again earned points for Gryffindor. He had only been half listening; playing Hangman with Ron at the time, but it had gone something like this.

**"...The Leviathan is a legendary sea monster that heralds from the ancients times of B.C. The Jews describe it as a great dragon that lives across the Sources of the Deep, where it and it's arch-rival the Kraken would rage battle, decimating any that crossed over it's threshold..."**

_Oh no,_ realized Harry at last. Saying it was a 'giant squid' wouldn't have scared people too much. But there was no denying that the huge, legendary monster thrashing its way through an army of sea creatures was undoubtedly the legendary  _Kraken_.

And it was about to smite its enemy, including everyone in its way.

* * *

 

Joan watched her father's unmoving body float to the surface, the sense of relief flooding her senses.  _It's almost over,_ she thought. The summoning had taken so much out of her that she had almost died, especially without Loki's help. Even with the cooling waters, it was impossible to shake off the fatigue she felt. Drained, was the word for it. Barely keeping it together.

Frantic bubbles floated to her face. Joan would have gasped if she could…Hermione was shaking like she was on fire. Panicked. Awake. Maybe not how she would normally wake up, but bound and gagged and underwater…

Ron had awakened as well. The red head struggled frantically against the ropes, screaming out only bubbles. Joan's heightened fear quickly subsided-they were breathing fine in water.

That fear leapt again as Harry shook her, almost roughly, completely losing her nerves. She turned around only to have the sea creatures charge right at her-and screamed for almost ten seconds as they all swam frantically by her.

"Harry!" she yelled out, forgetting that she couldn't scream. But he must have heard her somehow, because he shoved through the sea creatures with varying degrees of success until he could hold on to her, using his body to block her and the rest of the prisoners from the stampeding (or swimming) sea creatures.

Cedric had reached them at this point, looking very upset with the both of them.

"Get them out of here!" yelled Cedric. "Rules changed, we've got to work together! I'll hold them off, you-"

Wow, Diggory really was a good boy.

"-Listening, this is an urgent situation!"

Whoops. She had missed most of it. Why was she daydreaming in such a situation? She was also feeling oddly-lightheaded…

"Is she okay?!" asked/yelled Cedric, not really sounding so much as concerned for her as he was for her ability to operate. "We need to move, now! Go!"

Poseidon (the cute baby Leviathan) had become restless, swimming around the group of them. Cedric took one look at him and fired a flare spell into the deeper waters. Immediately, the big fish dived at it like a dog chasing after a bone. And the Kraken chased after him as well.

Dumbledore would have a lot to explain about keeping the legendary, man-eating, ship destroying Kraken in the LAKE…how was she supposed to know that?!

The Hufflepuff Champion kept those flares up, the light barely holding the legendary creatures attention span for more than a second. Fleur was conscious once again, helping him out as well.

Joan struggled to swim, but her whole body felt oddly flabby. Harry lightly pulled her by the hand, a worried look on his face as they begun to hack away at the prisoner's ropes. He exchanged a lingering look at Cho, and Joan felt her heart feel even more uncomfortable. Not cool, Harry Potter.

Bubbles smacked against her face again; Hermione was trying to say something, frantically waving her hair back and forth. Joan couldn't resist a laugh, she looked hilarious. Then she realized what Hermione was going on about.

She could  _blink._

The Gillyweed's effects were quickly fading. The holes in her side disappeared, followed by the gills. Joan took in one deep breath before she begun that long climb up to the surface…

…But she remembered Harry, cluelessly hacking away at Cho's restraints. She dived down, trying to pull him away. Harry had taken the Gillyweed barely after her, but neither he nor Cho seemed to notice the effects fading. Her flippers faded as she pulled at his shoulder.

Suddenly, she felt his arm roughly push her away, one of his fingers jabbing her in the side. And she did the worst thing she could do.

She laughed.

The quick breath was like a thousand daggers piercing into her sides from all angles, so quick and so sudden-she summoned all her willpower and swallowed, keeping what was left of her remaining breath. But it was no good; she couldn't swim to the surface…every cell in her body screamed for air, but breathing would hurt her: her entire being was at war with herself whilst she could not do anything to reach the surface.

She was drowning.

* * *

 

Harry Potter felt like something beyond a complete idiot. Like the reckless moron that he was, he had been so busy trying to free the prisoners that he hadn't even considered…

He grabbed Joan's body. She was almost going into shock, from the lack of oxygen in her cells. As he swum to the surface as hard as he could, she would sometimes violently shake. It had already started…

His arms and legs ached tremendously against the force of the lake, each muscle burning intensely whilst he tore his way up to the surface like a madman. His gills had faded, and his flippers would be next: his eyes were beginning to hurt in the water…

It was the longest five seconds of Harry's life, but in a moment two heads broke out of the water, one desperately gasping for air.

The other was not moving.

Even with his poor eyesight and current condition, Harry could tell that everything on the surface was utterly thrown into turmoil as well. Spells were casted, students evacuated and screaming…

He looked at Joan and almost jumped back. She was fully conscious, her large red eyes staring directly into his; and certainly not in the way he wanted them to. There was a smile on his face; the kind of smile that you see on killer clowns and lunatics. It freaked him out.

"Loki," he breathed.

He/she just smiled. It was a look that said everything. Harry had already known he'd screwed up beyond all measure and almost effectively killed Joan, but now he knew for sure…if it hadn't been for the Trickster God, Joan wouldn't be alive.

And he was gone as soon as he came, and Joan was out of it again, like she had never been awake in the first place. Suddenly, he felt the weight leave him; Joan floated out of the water and onto ground level, where several teachers and others he couldn't see attended to her.

"Harry!" squealed a voice, extending a hand. Harry could only presume it was Ludo Bagman; no one else would be that obsessively protective of him. So much for impartial…

The former international Quidditch player pulled him out of the water, onto the makeshift wooden floor. He gasped for air, feeling that sharp pain in his sides reappear. It felt like something was being ripped out of him.

"The…squid…" he managed, struggling to stand.

"We know, Harry. Dumbledore's got it all under control. Your fellow champions have been fished out of the water, and all four captives are safely on dry land. A team of Aurors will clean this up in a jiffy…

"Four?" said Harry, unsure if he had heard incorrectly. "There are  _five_ captives."

"Oh." Ludo Bagman looked thoroughly stunned, as if he had lost a bet to a pair of redheaded twins during the Quidditch World Cup again. "Slight oversight on my part…Harry!"

But Harry heard no more, already 2 feet into the water as he dived. It hadn't just been Loki's taunting look or Bagman's mistake; the responsibility weighed down on him like a ton on bricks. He had to do this.

Gillyweed or no Gillyweed.

Strong muscles and a lean physique pushed through the water, with the help of the weight charm pulling him faster into the water. In less than ten seconds he was at the depth of the lake again, reaching for one of the rocks below the surface…

A single roar sent chills down his spine, his blood freezing and with more fear than he could ever imagine. From a distance, the legendary water beasts had not looked so intimidating; even riding one of them to this point. But at this juncture, as they thrashed it out in close proximity: strong, powerful tentacles trying to crush a huge fish with lethal fangs; it was the scariest thing he had ever seen.

He struggled to keep his eyes open as he finally scoured across a loose rock. Cho Chang was almost hysterical with fear at this point, her screaming/bubbles still echoing through the water. She screamed even harder, seeing that Harry was clearly holding his breath.

Despite taking minutes earlier, one good hack finally cut through her ropes. Life was ironic that way. Harry and Cho swum past the rocks, just in time to avoid the Leviathan's collision into the formation. The impact would have killed Cho instantly…if she had still been there.

Harry sighed with relief. He had done it…

The water burned his lungs and was squeezed by the pressure…he choked and gagged on nothing, his insides lit ablaze. His throat burned from the need…

So this was how it felt to die. Harry's eyelids closed, succumbing to the pain. Even in his painful circumstance, the water provided some kind of gentle reassurance…his parents would have been proud of him…they went down as martyrs too…

Then he felt Cho's lips on his.

His eyes shot wide open at her taste; sweet, hungry lips really going at it. Maybe she thought this would be a good way of saying goodbye. At this point, he could barely think anymore…it was both funny and painful…

So he kissed her back.

Again.

And again.

And again, until he was kissing her more often and furiously, with need for more than just air.

Moments later, two heads popped out of the lake, gasping for air once again. Harry struggled to keep his arms moving…they were aching, and he was so tired…

And really, all he could think about was the kisses. First he had imagined each kiss would give him life, and then they actually did. He had forgotten…Cho could still breathe underwater.

"Y-you came back for me," she panted, struggling to float as well. Even though she was thoroughly soaked, he could tell that she was crying tears of relief.

"Y-yeah," coughed Harry, not quite thinking about that at all.

The teachers fished him out of the water, barely conscious but thoroughly confused. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it…this would have repercussions later, he was sure of it. But all that could wait, it was all over now…

With that, Harry Potter finally blacked out.

* * *

 

Read and Review please! 


End file.
